


April Is Over

by clio_jlh



Series: April Is Over 'verse [1]
Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Artists, F/F, Female Characters, Female Friendship, First Time, Gay Male Character, Humor, LGBTQ Character, Lesbian Character, Male-Female Friendship, Paris (City), Romance, Writers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-12
Updated: 2011-11-12
Packaged: 2017-10-25 23:58:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 27,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/276293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clio_jlh/pseuds/clio_jlh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An AU set among American expats in 1920s Paris. In Janice Rand’s experience, lesbians don't fall in love, so she puts her passion into her paintings and finds physical comforts where she can.  Christine Chapel, a recently divorced socialite and accomplished hostess, hopes to recapture the magic of her first love without its problems.  When their best friends become a couple, bringing them much together, the two are forced to confront their assumptions about romance, which leads them to a conclusion neither had anticipated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	April Is Over

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the F. Scott Fitzgerald story "The Sensible Thing." Dick and Nicole Diver borrowed from _Tender Is the Night_ , also by Fitzgerald. The story of how Kirk and McCoy meet is a true one; thanks to [](http://bhanesidhe.dreamwidth.org/profile)[](http://bhanesidhe.dreamwidth.org/)**bhanesidhe** for telling it to me.

Well, let it pass, he thought; April is over, April is over. There are all kinds of love in the world, but never the same love twice.  
—”’The Sensible Thing’”, F. Scott Fitzgerald.

__  
****  
one  
  


Divorce Granted: Roger Korby and Christine Chapel Korby, filed by Mrs. Korby on grounds of mental incapacitation  
— _The New York Times_ , April 20, 1920

Christine sighed. All over the city society was sitting down for breakfast, much as she was, sipping coffee and turning to page B20. It wasn't the fact of it so much as the renewed chatter it would generate, chatter that had died down again in the year since Roger had gone to the sanatorium. "Poor dear," they were saying, leaning across their walnut tables and dropping their voices so the servants wouldn't hear. "Roger never was right in the head. Why, he had to go all the way to Atlanta to find a bride, and a nurse, no less!"

At least there was a letter from a friend, postmarked Paris, that had been brought in with the paper. Pale blue edged with darker blue, very appropriately masculine. She slit it open.

"Well, Chris," it opened, "I'm damn sorry."

She smiled—she could just hear his voice.

  
_Kiddo, if you don't mind my saying so, I think it's about time you quit the Big Apple and came over to Gay Paree. Those folks mean well, but they're his people, not yours. Americans are coming in by the boatload and from all over hell and tarnation—we need to show them we're not all "Yanks." Your cousin Eve is pretty well situated to introduce you around to just about anyone worth knowing. And your dollars would go a long way._   


  
_Why be a respectable near-widow? You've done all you could for Roger—no one would argue that. I say get rid of that big house and come here to start fresh._   


  
_Besides, you can help Eve keep me from running amok in society. That always amused you._   


  
_My end is much the same. Admiral Pike is improving slowly and my research keeps me busy. Still sharing the lab with that physicist flyboy of Pike's, still find him ridiculous, but I wonder what you'll make of him. He's just your type—brilliant, but with some social drawbacks._   


  
_I know Eve has extended an invitation to come stay here with her and the admiral (and me). I hope you'll accept. Whatever you decide, you take care of yourself._   


  
_LHM_   


Christine looked around the room at the china and silver that were family heirlooms, the furniture she and Roger had bought in Pennsylvania, the elegant draperies and tasteful wallpaper. The room felt dark and dusty and overheated, and she longed to fling aside the curtains and open the windows, but that wasn't the done thing, not on Fifth Avenue.

And just like that, her mind was made up. Roger's niece would appreciate the silver, and giving back all these heirlooms seemed an appropriate gesture of gratitude to a family who'd been so welcoming and understanding. But Leo was right; they weren't her people, and it was time to move on.

* * *

Our own Miss Janice Rand is off to Paris to study art, thanks to the generosity of many of the parents at this school as well as her patrons at the School of Art who recognized her great talent. We wish her luck and success in her endeavors.  
— _Chicago County Day School Examiner, May 2, 1920_

Janice wasn't concerned about traveling alone; after all, she was too poor to arouse the interest of any gigolos and old enough to _be_ a chaperon herself. She'd had her meals on the train with some other traveling spinsters, nice ladies all and one of them quite beautiful. But the girl she sketched was the plainest of the lot; Janice was drawn in by her posture, which spoke to her of that prairie strength, the pioneer spirit she was leaving behind as she went east, following culture back to the old world.

It wasn't that stern portrait she gave to Kate as a farewell the night before they reached New York City, but another sketch that made her look rather pretty. And when the woman looked as though she'd like to be kissed, well, Janice was happy to oblige. She slipped back into her own sleeper early in the morning but felt restless, and wandered into the dining cabin in search of coffee and a bit of solitude.

Coffee she found, but solitude was not to be had. A young man she'd noticed the day before was sitting alone, staring out the window. He was handsome and charming, almost self-consciously so, and had had nearly all of the ladies, young and old, eating out of his hand the day before. But now he looked pensive, quiet, and she sat down elsewhere so as not to disturb him.

Of course he looked up just as she did so. "Please, come, sit," he said, indicating the chair opposite him. His smile was smaller, warmer, more genuine than the grins she'd seen earlier.

He stood as she walked toward him. "We haven't really been introduced," he said, holding out his hand. "James Kirk."

"Janice Rand," she replied, shaking it. His grip was firm, and he did her the courtesy of shaking hers like a man.

"What brings you to New York?"

"I'm sailing to Paris this afternoon, actually," she said. "Or rather, Le Havre."

"Are you really? On the French Line? Then we're to be shipmates."

"Yes," she said, "but I'm traveling second-class."

"So am I," he replied, grinning broadly. He leaned in, conspiring. "Don't let the threads fool ya; I'm a stalwart scion of the middle-west, and second-class is good enough for me. But surely you're not doing the tour alone?"

"No," she replied. "I've completed art college and the head of school has sent me for further study with his own mentor in Paris. I'll be there indefinitely."

"Said with neither false modesty nor braggadocio," he said. "I'm impressed."

Janice inclined her head in thanks. "And you, Mr. Kirk?"

"Please, call me Jim. I went through Paris during the war and swore I'd return. And, cliche though it may be, I'm moving there to write a novel."

"The Great American Novel?" she asked, smiling.

" _Of course_!"

The porter came then, bringing hot rolls and a cup of coffee for Janice.

"So, how is that friend you made yesterday?" Jim asked. "Kate, I think her name is?"

"I'm sure she's perfectly fine," Janice said, looking out the window and hoping her fair complexion hadn't given her away.

Jim chuckled. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't tease. After all we've only just met. But don't worry."

"Worry?" Janice asked.

Jim looked around at the empty dining car, then whispered, "I'm one, too."

Janice could only blink.

"See?" he said, grinning. "We'll get along _splendidly_! May I call you Jan?"

"Of course you may," she replied, still a bit stunned.

"But what I really want to know, Jan," he went on, this time in full voice, "is how do you do that with your hair?"

He winked, and Janice had to laugh.

Janice and Kate's goodbyes at Pennsylvania Station were all friendliness, indistinguishable from the other ladies, which was how Janice preferred it. Romance, even love, these things had no place among her kind, a lesson she’d learned the hard way in her younger days. She liked to think that she was staring down her thirtieth birthday honestly, with no false hopes. Happily she was an artist and had something else to devote her life to, something respectable and important.

Jim accompanied her on the special motor coach arranged by the ship's line, with other passengers who'd come in by train that morning, and escorted her to the second-class embarkation area. The ever-efficient porters had taken away their trunks, and they were showing their passports to one of the stewards. Janice wasn't used to traveling with a man, and while she was perfectly capable of doing these things herself, it was nice to have Jim there to keep the other "helpful" men away, particularly as he hadn't so much as hinted at making a play for her, which was unusual. Unless when he said "I'm one, too"—well, no. He couldn't possibly have been referring to that.

Just then there was a commotion, a murmuring in the crowd, and Janice turned to see a very expensive looking automobile drive up to where the first-class passengers embarked. A chauffeur helped his passenger out of the back seat. The woman looked straight out of an Edith Wharton novel, with embroidered slippers and kid gloves and blonde hair in a perfect chignon topped by a large hat.

She walked past them on her way to the ship, and while many eyes were on her, she turned and looked at Janice, who admittedly was staring rather openly. The woman's face was quite young, handsome rather than beautiful, and there was intelligence behind her blue eyes. She nodded, cordially, and Janice nodded back, fighting a wild urge to curtsy.

Then she was up the walkway and gone, and all the noise of the busy pier came rushing back into Janice's ears. She turned to Jim, who was looking at her with a slight smile on his lips.

Janice cleared her throat. "I could paint her," she said.

Jim raised an eyebrow. "I've only met you this morning, Jan, and already I know that you have better things to put your energy toward than portraits of society ladies, however interesting looking they might be."

Their conversation after that stayed firmly in banal pleasantries as they boarded and Jim, along with the porter, escorted Janice to her room. Jim was just down the hall, and it wasn't long before he was knocking on her door again.

"Settled in?" he asked. "Time to see everyone off!"

"But there's no one here to see me off," Janice said.

"Nor for me," Jim admitted, "but then, I don't think everyone on the pier is actually seeing someone off in particular. Some folks just like watching ships leave, especially a big liner like this one. So we can wave to them!"

Wave they did, from the second class deck, as the gangways were pulled back and the liner pulled away from the island of Manhattan and into the harbor.

"Ever been on a big ship like this?" Jim asked.

"I've never even been further east than Indianapolis," Janice said, "nor west of Kansas City. Have you?"

Jim nodded. "Went over and back in one, during the Great War," he said.

"So you were a soldier?" she asked.

"Pilot."

"You flew one of those planes?" she asked. "Against the Red Baron?"

" _You_ watched the newsreels," he said, smiling. "Never saw him, but got my share of Germans."

She looked at him straight on. "You do resemble those dashing heroes in the movies." She thought if he were one of those wealthy boys in Chicago she'd paint him as an impetuous Greek hero, like Achilles.

"Thanks," he said. "Here, let's go to the other side. Less crowded, and we can look out at the sea."

With a firm hand at her side he guided her through the crowd, and they cut through the salons to the starboard side, where they were nearly alone. Janice rested her gloved hands on the rail and looked out at the other side of the Hudson River. Jim stood with his back to the rail, and leaned back on his elbows.

"So what did you mean before," she asked, "when you said that you were just like me?"

"Why, that I'm an invert, too, of course."

Janice turned to him. "You mean …"

He smiled, a little ruefully. "Nothing for it, I'm afraid. I like girls just fine—I think they're lovely! In fact, I like them so much that once I'd realized my inclinations lay elsewhere, I couldn't imagine tricking some poor girl into marrying me."

"There was no girl back home, when you were fighting?" she asked.

"Not really," he replied. "Met a girl in college, before the war, but she didn't want to get married, either. She wanted to become a scientist."

"You like the odd girls," Janice said.

"I do! I like a girl who's got more than marrying on her mind, and you don't find that near Riverside, Iowa, never mind what I'm really looking for. I sold a couple of romantic stories to some ladies' magazines, which gave me enough money to leave the farm. My brother Sam's better at that sort of thing anyway."

"Your folks?"

He shrugged. "My Pa died when I was just a baby, helping to liberate Cuba. And Ma might be why I like the odd girls. She took classes at Iowa State, helps out the farmers with hybrids and such. My grandfather Tiberius really took care of the farm until Sam was old enough to take over." He turned and stared out at the water himself. "What about your folks?"

"Mine died young, too," Janice said. "I was eighteen, and had a younger sister and brother to raise. So I got teacher's training, was able to board us all at a private school in Chicago. One of my student's parents saw a little painting I'd done, and knew someone at the local art college, and they arranged for me to take some classes now and again. And my teacher there, he saw potential. My brother and sister are grown now, so they told me to go, and here I am, thanks to many good friends, on my way to Paris with a place at a school and a letter of introduction to my teacher's own mentor."

"A private school?" Jim asked. "And were you very popular with the other teachers?"

"Really, Mr. Kirk," Janice said, with all the false hauteur she could manage, "are you suggesting that there might be lesbians among the faculty of a private school?"

Jim narrowed his eyes. "You get them to chase you, don't you?" he asked.

She smiled, just slightly. "Certain ladies seem to enjoy my company," she said.

"And are you leaving someone behind in Chicago?" he asked.

"Of course not," Janice replied. "I don't think love really exists, among our kind. Too much in the way. Perhaps we're like witches—we have magic, but in exchange we can never have love."

"Do you really believe that?" he asked.

"Don't you? You didn't mention leaving anyone behind, yourself."

"Well," he said, "I did meet someone once, during the war. Only briefly, just one night. I don't even know his name and yet, I haven't been able to stop thinking about him."

Janice shook her head. "This is precisely what I mean. One night, you don't know his name—that's what it is, for our kind."

Jim nodded, sadly. "Maybe so. I always did have a romantic imagination."

"Put it in your books," Janice said. "That's what I do—I put it into the painting, and I don't search for it in life. Just think how many ladies' magazine stories you can wring out of your lost love!"

Jim chuckled then. "Jan, how glad I am that we met," he said. "I'll have a friend in Paris who'll keep me from brooding. Now, do you have a place to stay?"

"I have the address of a hotel not far from the school, which should suffice until I find something. You didn't already arrange for accommodations?"

"My admiral, from my flying days, lives in Paris," Jim said. "He got hurt pretty bad in a crash, but some smarty pants doctor's got him walking again. Anyway he invited me to stay until I found something. Though I admit, being in a hotel for that first night has its appeal. I'd like to ease back into taking orders."

"Aren't admirals on ships, rather than planes?" Janice asked.

"Well, see, there aren't too many folks that can fly," Jim said, "so while technically he was a general in the U.S. Army, he's a Navy man through and through, even went to Annapolis. He liked to be called Admiral and we were happy to go along."

"You must have been close, you fly boys," she said.

"We sure were," Jim said. "There's only four of us left now, plus the admiral, and two of them are in Paris, too."

"So it will be like old times," Janice said.

"With the advantage of no Krauts trying to kill us," Jim replied.

* * *

Christine's crossing was uneventful. First class was a mix of Americans from all over the country, plus a great many Frenchmen, and she hadn't realized until dinner that first night how claustrophobic New York society had become for her. Many assumed that she was a widow and she didn't bother to correct them, as it was as good as true. Two Parisian couples put up with her schoolgirl French, and assured her that she'd get along just fine in French society. And she also was reminded of what it was like to receive the attention of a gentleman. While at thirty she was certainly too old to be anything like the belle of the cruise, she had more than one man vying to escort her to dinner. Leo had been trying to get her to consider remarriage, but it was these boys who made her think it might actually be possible.

At Le Havre she had a slight wait in the station before the Paris train was ready for boarding, and there she saw the girl from the pier in New York, the one who had looked at her so directly, almost like a man might. She was pretty, with long yellow hair tucked under at the back to approximate a bob, and was still accompanied by the same man who'd been with her at boarding. A young couple on their honeymoon tour, very likely, and Christine was suddenly wistful for her own trip with Roger, nine years before.

She'd expected her cousin Eve to send a car and driver for her at the Gare Saint-Lazare, but was pleasantly surprised when she was met by her friend.

"Leo!" she said. She flung herself into his arms—not very ladylike, but she found she didn't care much.

"Oh Chris, it's been too long," he said, holding her tight.

"Far too long," she agreed. He let her go and she stepped back. "You look just the same. Your hair still won't stay in place." She pushed back that stubborn lock at the center of his forehead that refused to slick back with the rest, and remembered how often his hair would fall into his face when he became excited.

"Damn widow's peak," he said, but there was no heat in it, only warmth in his hazel eyes. "Come, I have a car."

She took his arm, and the porter followed behind. "I thought you said autos were rickety death traps?" she asked.

"Better a rickety death trap I'm in control of, than one driven by these Parisian taxi drivers," he said.

Leo had a plain, black, perfectly serviceable little car, just as she might have predicted he'd own.

As they eased out into traffic he said, "Eve is throwing you a dinner party tonight, of course. But you have plenty of time for a rest and to freshen up beforehand."

"Of course she is, the dear. Who will be there, do you know?"

"The other guest of honor is a Mr. Kirk, who flew for the admiral in the war. Apparently he sent a note saying he's bringing a lady friend with him to dinner. I think he sailed with you from New York, actually. Eve says he's a bit of a scamp, but a good man underneath."

"I don't remember meeting anyone like that on the crossing," Christine said.

"Oh I doubt he was in first-class," Leo replied. "Now, tell me _everything_. How are you doing, really?"

"Better now that I'm here. You were right; I needed to leave New York. I feel like I can breathe again."

Leo took her hand and kissed it. "I wish I could have been there for you during that time," he said.

"Oh but you were! Your letters were a godsend. And you needed to stay here, with your work. But that's all over, and I'm here now, for a new start."

"What better place?" Leo said. "Society here is a hodge podge of ex-patriates. You have money and poise, which is more than enough, particularly as I assume you aren't looking for one of those titles that are for sale."

"Not me!" Christine replied. "When I left New York I didn't think I'd ever remarry."

"And now?" Leo asked.

"Now I don't know," she said, smiling at him. "Why, who else is coming to dinner?"

"Two men who also served with the admiral during the war and are coming to see their old buddy. One of them is that fellow I wrote you about, a Mr. Spock, who shares a lab with me. Though I warn you, we don't get along very well."

"As I recall you didn't like Roger much, either." Christine looked out the window at the city passing by; talking about Roger was still difficult, even now.

"The other one isn't actually a pilot, but an engineer who helped design and maintain the planes, Mr. Scott. And then we'll also have Mr. Kirk's lady friend."

Christine smiled. "Whom Eve and I will make very welcome while the boys drink whiskey and reminisce."

"Oh, we don't follow that level of formality with the ladies retiring and all that."

"I'm sure that was Eve's idea," Christine said. "She never liked being kept out of important conversations."

"She's also developed a taste for whiskey, which amuses the admiral to no end. Makes the dinners with no guests much nicer. And now we'll have you at the table every night as well, until you find a place. Oh, and Mr. Kirk too, apparently."

"It sounds lovely. And you're doing well, Leo?"

"Very. Getting good work done, and the admiral is really coming along. He's a stubborn bastard, which is why he's making any progress at all. I never have to ask him to do anything twice but does he grumble about it!"

Christine chuckled. She'd only met the admiral a few times before the war, but she could imagine him having difficulty being one who took orders, rather than one giving them. "And your romantic life?" she asked.

"Nothing to write home about," he replied. "A few men here and there. But that it could even be that, Chris, is amazing. Among the artistic set there doesn't seem to be any scandal about it at all." He shook his head. "Damn glad I knew French."

"I'm glad, too," Christine said. Leo did look more relaxed, for him; more settled into himself somehow. It made her sad to think what a secret he'd had to keep all those years, and in the end, it had come out anyway, and cost him everything: career, marriage, friends. The Great War had come along at just the right time, once Christine came down to Atlanta from New York, pulled him out of the bottom of that bottle, and got him into an Army that needed skilled surgeons enough not to ask too many questions. After the war she'd told Eve about him, when her cousin was looking for a private physician for her husband, and Leo had been able to stay in France. "But no one like that boy you wrote me about? The one you met during the war?"

"No," Leo said. "No one like him."

* * *

When her mentor first spoke of sending her to Paris, two years ago, Janice started sitting in on the French classes at her school to prepare herself. She thought she'd done rather well, until she landed in Le Havre. She likely would have been able to make her way—she could read the signs and such—but Jim was a great help, pushing them past the throngs at the train station and finding a cab.

"Just always been good at picking up lingo," he said with a shrug.

"Are you sure your friends won't mind my coming to dinner?" she asked.

"Very. Eve loves having a full table."

The cab winded through old, narrow streets with buildings almost crowding out any sort of sidewalks. People ran to and fro, sometimes right in front of their cab. She'd always thought that Chicago was a bustling city but it was nothing compared to this. Thanks to Jim banging on the back of the seat, they came to a very sudden stop in front of her hotel. There they each secured a room.

"Well, dinner is at eight," Jim said as they walked upstairs, "so I'll knock on your door around seven, as we'd want to be there for a cocktail around seven-thirty. The admiral demands punctuality."

Janice looked up at him. "Did you often disappoint him?"

"Not about that, no," Jim replied.

"And how formal will this dinner be?"

"Not very," Jim said. "That blue dress you wore our second night out? That should be just fine, and it suits you very well."

"Thank you," Janice said. "I'll do that."

Once in her room she lay down on the bed. She couldn't quite believe that she was here, in Paris; that she'd already made a friend and might make some more before the night was over. She knew her life would be more eventful, but this? She reached into her valise for her journal, and the little book of postcards she'd bought at the train station in Le Havre. She'd sent letters from the ship, of course, but she needed to let everyone know she'd landed, safe and sound. She was shy about mentioning Jim, not wanting to give the wrong impression to her family, but she still felt somewhat dazed at how open they could be with each other. She'd gone from a teacher with a dark secret to an artist with almost none in less than a week’s time.

* * *

__  
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two  
  


Christine made her way down the stairs to the parlor, taking a closer look at the decor now that she was refreshed from her bath and nap. Eve had always had an elegance about her, even when they were younger, a way of holding herself slightly apart. Her home reflected that—it was all the clean lines of the new style, nothing pre-war about it. Such a change from New York society, where the old money rich were still clinging to their Victorian ways.

She stepped into the parlor and there was a man she'd never seen before, likely one of the other dinner guests. He was tall and dark and stood very erect, examining something on the mantle, but turned as he heard her enter the room. "Eve—that is, Mrs. Pike, she went to see to something with the cook, I believe."

"I see," Christine said, smiling.

He advanced on her, his face serious. "My name is Spock," he said. "You must be Mrs. Pike's cousin, in from America."

"That's right," she said. "Christine …" She paused for a moment, because since she'd landed in France she didn't feel much like Mrs. Roger Korby anymore, or even Christine Korby. And after all, she had every right to leave the name behind with the house and the city and the life and the man. "Chapel," she said. "Miss Christine Chapel."

"I must say, the resemblance is remarkable. If not for your being a blonde and her a brunette I am not sure I would be able to tell you apart."

"Well, we're double cousins, you see. Her father's sister is my mother, and my father's sister is her mother."

"That would increase the number of genes you might share," Spock said, his tone even and curious, "but that you would be nearly twins is quite rare. The chance of that is almost infinitesimal."

"My cousin says you're a physicist," Christine said, "so you must know about these things."

"I do figure out probability before I begin my experiments, to ensure that the results are valid and not due to random chance."

Christine moved to one of the couches and sat down, motioning Mr. Spock to do the same. "Please, you must tell me all about them," she said. "I'm very interested in the new physics, though I admit I don't understand all of what Mr. Einstein put forth in his papers."

Mr. Spock cocked his head. "You've read his articles?" he asked.

"Yes," she said. "My husband was very interested in science and received several journals. He also funded some research at Columbia. He used to read various articles to me, and answer my questions."

"I also have some journals," he replied. "Older issues, if you would like to borrow them."

"Thank you," Christine said, smiling. "Don't think I won't be asking for them, and the explanations as well!"

"I'm happy to explain anything to those that take a sincere interest."

"That must be my problem," said a familiar voice at the door. "A lack of _sincerity_ "

Christine turned in her seat, and had to laugh at Leo's sarcasm.

"I see you've met my lab partner," Leo said.

Mr. Spock had risen to his feet. "Yes, we were discussing the new physics."

"Hmm," Leo said, walking into the room. "Roger Korby did have a sincere interest in science, I'll give him that, and he put his money where his mouth was."

"Then I am very sorry for your loss," Mr. Spock said to Christine.

"What a nice way to put it," Christine said. "He _is_ lost, isn't he, Leo?"

"I think even to himself," Leo agreed. "Well, the admiral will be here in a moment so I should get to making the martinis. He says he likes mine the best, so that's my dinnertime chore." He walked over to the small bar set up in the corner. "Chris, I hope you'll be joining us. Spock here is a teetotaler."

"Sound mind, sound body," Mr. Spock said. "I am also a vegetarian."

Christine could see Leo rolling his eyes behind Mr. Spock's back. "How interesting," she said. "And how do you make up the nutrients?"

"I do eat eggs and cheese," Mr. Spock replied. "And legumes, of course."

"Of course," Christine said.

"I expect I would find many other teetotalers in America, now that Prohibition has passed," he said.

"Far from it," Christine replied. "Everyone drinks just as much, only now instead of going to taverns they go to little clubs called speakeasies."

"Lower quality for more money," Leo said as he shook their cocktails. "But my cousin Bill is making a fortune on our grandpappy's old moonshine recipe. Smart enough to give a little to the sheriff so he won't get raided."

"How enterprising of him," Mr. Spock replied.

"I thought so," Leo said, straining the martini into a pitcher. "Olive or onion, Chris?"

"Olive, please," she said.

"Aye, got enough in there for me?" said another man as he walked into the room.

"Of course, Scotty," Leo said. "Montgomery Scott, may I introduce you to …" He looked up. "Chris, how are you styling your name?"

"She introduced herself to me as Miss Chapel," Mr. Spock said.

"Then Miss Chapel it shall be," Mr. Scott said, taking her hand in two of his. He had a warm smile with large eyes and close-cropped, thinning hair. "And you should call me Scotty. Everyone does."

"Then you should call me Christine," she replied. "You as well, Mr. Spock."

"I'm afraid I do not go by my own given name," he said, "so you may simply call me Spock, if you like."

"Well, you are the spitting image, aren't you?" Scotty said, looking carefully at her face. "If I didn't know better I'd think you were Eve, wearing a wig and putting us on."

"I'm right here," Eve said, walking into the room behind her husband's chair, "in case you need further proof."

"Christine!" the admiral said. "Aren't you a sight!"

She smiled. Seeing such a powerful and vital man as the admiral unable to walk was still a shock, however much she'd been prepared for it. "Hello, Chris. I see that Leo has been treating you well."

"If you mean barking at me every morning and evening to do my exercises then yes, he has."

"He barks at those he loves. I know this better than anyone."

"Well you could have warned a fellow," he replied. "And I'd bet he didn't bark as much to you."

"Even more, I assure you."

"I'm right here," Leo said, handing them each a glass.

The admiral cocked his head at the bit of a stir coming from the front door. "That'll be the guest of honor, making his usual graceful entrance."

"Be nice, Chris," Eve said. "He's brought a guest with him, a lady friend."

The admiral raised his eyebrows. "A lady? That's different."

"I'll mix up another pitcher," Leo said, turning to the bar in the corner.

A butler showed in the guests who, to Christine's surprise, were the couple she'd seen in New York and Le Havre. Close up, the woman was quite pretty with striking blue eyes and though she looked the part in her blue dress there was nothing of the china doll about her, which Christine could appreciate. She seemed to recognize Christine but not expect to be recognized herself, so Christine nodded at her, smiling.

The man was grinning broadly with a pleasant sort of charm. "Good to see you, Admiral," he said, shaking hands.

"About time you got here," the admiral said gruffly, and Christine thought it rather silly the way grown men behaved like eight-year-old boys when trying to express affection for one another.

"Allow me to introduce my friend Janice Rand," the man replied, bringing her closer. "We met on board ship. Jan, this is my admiral, Christopher Pike."

"Pleased to meet you," she said.

"Likewise," the admiral replied. "Jim, you won't know our houseguest. This is Eve's cousin."

"I was on that ship, too," Christine said, holding out her hand. "I remember seeing you both on the pier in New York. Christine Chapel."

Jim hesitated for a moment, but Janice stepped forward and shook it, firmly. "I'm so glad we could meet," she said, and Christine felt oddly exposed under her direct gaze.

"As am I," Christine replied.

"Say," Jim said, "you're the one who hooked up the admiral with that smarty-pants doctor that's getting him walking again, right?"

Christine glanced over at Leo, who still had his back to the room, and she could see him bristling at that description of him just from the way he was standing. "Yes," she said. "I was his nurse, before I married."

"Leo," the admiral said, "why don't you join the party and meet these nice folks?"

"I was making those nice folks a drink," Leo said, turning around. But when he caught sight of Jim and Janice, he stopped short. " _Jim_?" he asked.

" _Bones_?" Jim replied.

"You both look as if you've seen a ghost," Eve said.

But they paid her no mind; instead they walked toward each other across the room, slowly. They met in the middle, and grasped each other's arms, as if they needed touch to assure themselves that the other man was real.

At last Leo spoke. "Glad to see you made it out in one piece," he said, his voice rough with emotion.

"You too," Jim replied.

Christine turned to Janice, wondering if she understood this strange scene, but she looked as confused as the rest of them.

"Well," Leo said at last, "drink?"

"Please," Jim replied.

Leo handed him two cocktail glasses. "For your friend," he said.

Jim blinked. "Jan, yes," he said, smiling a little, and brought the woman her glass.

"I take it you and Leo have met previously, Jim?" Spock asked.

"It's a long story," Jim said, looking at Leo.

"One that Eve will get out of you both at dinner, no doubt," the admiral said. "In the meantime, a toast to our three new Parisians."

The butler returned to the doorway then to announce that dinner was ready, and Leo came forward to escort Christine into the dining room.

She leaned into him and whispered, "So why didn't you tell me about him?"

"I did," Leo muttered back. "He's that boy from the war."

"Well, it appears he remembered you, too," she replied.

"Looks like," Leo said, smiling a little, and Christine had to giggle at the flush that came to his cheeks.

* * *

Of course Janice had been to formal dinner parties in Chicago, and other than their first night out the dinners on board ship had also been formal. But while the food and service at the Pikes' table was very French and exacting, the atmosphere was as relaxed as any Sunday supper. Janice sat between the admiral, sitting at the head of the table, and Jim. Christine Chapel was across from her, at the admiral's left hand, which suited Janice quite well. Janice had thought that Christine was lovely from afar, but close to hand, she was even better to look at. Jim, meanwhile, only had eyes for Leo, who was sitting across from him, next to Christine. Janice had only known Jim for a few days, but it was still interesting to see a man who'd presented himself as such a playboy behave like an schoolboy with a crush.

"Jan, Jim didn't tell us what brings you to Paris," Eve said.

"I'm a painter," she said, and a little thrill went through her at saying it out loud, at taking it seriously and expecting it to be respected by others. "My teacher sent me here to study with his mentor."

"She's quite good, too," Jim said.

"You'd judge any likeness of you a masterpiece, Jim," Scotty said.

"She drew more than my handsome face," Jim replied. "She did a lovely sketch of a group of ladies who were traveling with us."

"Do you specialize in portraiture?" asked Christine.

"I wouldn't want to be like Cassat and paint nothing but mothers and children," she replied, "but little portrait sketches please people. I used to do a lot of landscapes--Illinois is very beautiful, especially along the lake. Though, just being in this city for less than a day, I think I might do more urban scenes. Of course, I'm not sure what I'll be studying so it isn't entirely up to me."

"And will you be part of this new modern art that Eve is so interested in buying?" the admiral asked.

Janice smiled. "I wouldn't want to say that I'm _part_ of it," she said. "I'm of course only just starting on my own work. But I'm deeply interested in it and influenced by it. I saw the Armory Show back in '13, when it came to Chicago, and I would even say that it was seeing that show that drove me to sketch more—I was teaching art at a private school at the time—and that led to my going to art school and, well, here I am."

"I was lucky enough to see that show in New York," Christine said. "And I agree that it was spectacular. Mrs. Bliss did a wonderful job with it."

Janice leaned forward. "Oh I would have loved to see that!" she said. "I know that the show we saw was somewhat edited from the original. Do you know Mrs. Bliss?"

"Yes indeed," she replied. "I was an early member of the Cosmopolitan Club. I joined to learn more about the sciences and philosophy, but the arts programs were very welcome."

"I have heard of that club," Spock said. "Some of my colleagues at the University have lectured there when they were in New York. It is my understanding that the ladies were very engaged."

"It was a refuge for me," Christine said. "I was a new bride at the time, trying to make my way in society, and the Club gave me a way to connect with the other ladies that wasn't simply about what was fashionable. All this new thinking in the sciences and the arts—it's so _important_ , don't you think?"

"I quite agree," said Spock. "I wish that all women were as enlightened as the ones at this table."

"Not all women have the great good luck to have a husband who seeks an intelligent wife," Eve said, smiling at the admiral.

"Then they're damn fools," her husband replied.

"If you're interested, Christine," Janice said, "I'll be spending a good deal of time touring the galleries. I'd be glad for a companion."

"I'd like that very much," Christine replied. "With your expert eye, perhaps I'll even find some things for the house."

"You have a home here?" Jim asked.

"Not yet, but I'll be looking for one. As I understand it from Eve everyone in Paris rents, and I have the name of a local agent, though it will be very strange to be looking on my own."

Leo turned to her. "You know if I'd be of any help at all …"

" _You_ would scare the agent," she replied. "No, I'm a New Woman now and if I’m to have the vote then surely I can find my own house."

Spock leaned forward. "I've become familiar with many of the neighborhoods in Paris during my time here. I would be happy to accompany you."

"Why thank you, Spock. That's very kind of you." She smiled, and Janice recognized that particularly female look of triumph in her eyes. Not that she'd really considered pursuing a liaison with Christine; she had few enough friends in Paris. But she still found herself ever so slightly disappointed.

"Now that that's settled," said Scotty, "I'd like to hear Jim and Leo's story. I think we've been patient enough."

"I agree," the admiral said. "Out with it."

Jim and Leo exchanged glances. "You started it," Leo said.

"Fine," Jim said with a sigh. "In about June of '18 I had read through the few books I had with me and was desperate for something else--and, frankly, for someone to talk books with. Spock was great for philosophy or history or science but he wasn't one for literature, and my other buddy Hikaru Sulu wasn't interested in higher culture at all. But there was a rumor that a few camps over was a doc with a sack full of books who'd talk your ear off if you let him. So, being desperate as I said, I waited until a night when we were fogged in and set off looking for him."

"Damn fool," Leo said. "So in the middle of the night, some kid comes bursting into my tent—"

"I wasn't a kid, Bones. I was twenty-nine at the time."

"—some _kid_ comes bursting into my tent and says, 'Are you the doc with the books?' So of course I drew my gun on him and asked him what he was doing there."

"I put my hands up and said, 'Books?' and tossed my shoulder bag at his feet."

"Sure enough, there were books in it, including a copy of _My Antonia_ , which I hadn't read yet. So I put the gun away."

"And we talked about Willa Cather and James Joyce and Edith Wharton and Henry James and Theodore Dreiser and L.M. Montgomery—"

"Montgomery?" Janice asked. "As in Anne Shirley?"

Jim turned to her. "My love for Gilbert Blythe is deep and true, Jan. And Bones had _House O'Dreams_."

"What did you think of it?" Leo asked.

"Buckets of tears, Bones."

"Where does this nickname come from?" Christine asked.

"Jim went to introduce himself and I said no names, so I didn't know his last name and he just called me 'Bones'," Leo said. "Which is better than 'Doc' I suppose."

"When it got close to dawn, we traded a few books, and I left," Jim said.

"And I wrote to Chris that I wondered if I'd dreamt the whole thing," Leo said.

"And I never thought I'd see him again," Jim said, looking at Leo, "and here we are."

"Isn't that remarkable?" Eve said.

"If you ask me," the admiral said, "it sounds downright _romantic_."

Jim's head snapped around. "Romantic?" he asked. "But we're—"

"Two men, I'm aware of that," the admiral said. "I also know what you were up to with Sulu most nights, Jim Kirk. But you were both damn good pilots and you kept it to yourselves, so I figured, it's war. Besides I came from the Navy; I know how it can be."

Jim was looking down at the table now. "And you still invite me into your home?" he asked.

"Hell, why do you think Leo is here treating me instead of at that fancy Atlanta hospital where he worked with Chris?" the admiral said. "We're damn lucky to have him. I pay no never mind to who he wants to lay down with, as long as it isn't me or my sons."

"Duly noted," Jim said, nodding.

Janice took a deep breath, then spoke. "And what are your feelings on who women want to lay down with?" she asked, looking him in the eye.

He raised his eyebrows. "Well, to be honest, I never had to think about it much. But I don't know why it should be any different. I'd ask you to stay away from Evie but I'm not too worried about her."

Janice smiled, relieved. "Nor should you be," she said, then turned to Christine, whose eyes were wide. Perhaps she'd never met a lesbian, either?

"So Jim and Leo, you two sort yourselves out with a minimum of fuss," the admiral continued, "because I don't want Evie to have to invite one of you one night and one of you the other."

"No, sir," Leo said, looking at Jim.

"All right then," the admiral said, with the kind of finality that called for changing the subject.

"I, er, I saw Hikaru in Chicago last week," Jim said. "He's working on a new act, a Negress singer-dancer. She's very good."

"Back to the family business, eh?" Scotty asked.

"Apparently," Jim said, "though their venues are limited in the States. He was going to stop in New York, but I wouldn't be surprised if he was headed our way in a month or so." He turned to Janice and Christine. "Hikaru Sulu's people put on plays and concerts in California, for the Chinese and Japanese folks there."

"How lovely," Christine said, "to grow up in the theater."

"What sort of program is this?" Spock asked.

"She sings jazz in the nightclubs, and does some sort of native African dance," he said, "but she also will put on a gown and sing opera for private parties. She just needs to find an audience."

"Intriguing," Spock said. "I look forward to seeing her perform, if she's as good as you say."

"As do I," Christine said.

After dinner, Jim lingered in the sitting room until after Scotty and Spock had left, and Janice was a little sorry that he had to worry about her, rather than talking to his long-lost friend. But at last he moved to go, and they said good-bye to their hosts and to Christine.

"I'll walk you out," Leo said, and escorted them down the hallway to the front door.

"Oh my goodness," Janice said, "I forgot my gloves. They must be in the parlor." She smiled, using all her dimples. "I'll just run and get them—I'll be right back!"

Jim blinked at her. "We'll wait right here," he said.

"Yeah," Leo said, "we'll do that."

She nodded and turned and went back into the parlor, where only Christine remained, holding Jan's gloves in her hand. "Very clever of you," Christine said.

"I just thought they might want a moment alone," Janice said. "To sort themselves out, as the admiral put it."

"We can go around this way, through the admiral's office," Christine said. She walked through a door into the next room and Janice followed. "That's the hall right there," Christine whispered, pointing at the other door in the room.

They tiptoed up to it, and Christine opened it just enough for them to peep out. Jim and Leo were talking, softly, and then suddenly they pulled each other into a passionate kiss. Christine closed the door, and they smiled at each other, then quickly walked back to the parlor.

"I guess that's that," Janice said.

Christine held out her hand. "Very well done," she said. "I expect we'll be spending time together, then."

"I look forward to it," Janice said, shaking hands. She took back her gloves, then walked into the hall and raised her voice. "Thank you so much for finding them, Christine."

"My pleasure," she replied, walking down the hall behind her.

By the time they'd turned the corner, Jim and Leo had separated.

"Oh, Leo, here you are," Christine said.

"Well, we should, er, we should go," Jim said.

"Yes, yes, it's late," Leo said.

Janice worked hard not to laugh. "Thank you, Leo. It was lovely to meet you."

"You too, Jan," Leo said. He shook hands with Jim, and they were on their way.

"So," Janice said, when they were in the cab.

Jim chuckled. "Thanks for that glove business."

"Didn't take a genius to see how you were looking at each other," Janice said, shrugging.

"Even for someone who doesn't believe in love for our sort?" Jim asked.

"There are exceptions for every rule," Janice replied, because she couldn't argue—watching them was like seeing a novel come to life.

Jim smiled. "And how did Christine hold up at close quarters?"

"Very well," Janice said, "but I think she has her eye on someone else."

"Who, Spock?" Jim asked. "I've known that man for four years and I've never seen him have any interest in that kind of thing. He's all about rational thought." He bumped her shoulder with his. "But you can be there to dry her tears when he lets her down," he said, grinning.

"Oh I don't know," Janice replied. "Back in Chicago we'd call her 'highfalutin.'"

"She used to be a nurse," Jim pointed out.

"Well, she isn't one now," Janice replied.

* * *

__  
****  
three  
  


_May 20, 1920_

"So now that we're alone," Janice said, "you must tell me what you think of Picasso's new work."

"Certainly different than what I saw at the Armory seven years ago," Christine replied. "You'd said they were returning to classical forms after the war but I didn't think it would be this pronounced."

Janice smiled. It was so easy to talk about art with Christine, a real pleasure to bring her to galleries. Being a wealthy American and therefore a possible buyer, Christine was treated with respect at the galleries, but that deference made her nervous, and she tended to say very little. It was only later, over cafe au lait, that she would discuss the art with Janice.

"Did you see anything you liked?" Janice asked.

"A few small things," she replied, "but until I find my house it will be difficult to know what I want to purchase."

"Speaking of houses," Janice said, "we signed the lease this morning."

"You're sure about this house?" Christine asked.

"Christine, you saw it," Janice replied, "and you said it was darling."

"Yes," she said, "but I wasn't thinking then that you would no longer be down the hall from me."

Janice reached across the table to take Christine's hand. The Pikes had been kind enough to invite Janice to stay with them until she found more permanent housing in Paris, and with money a concern she had been happy to take them up on their offer. But she and Jim were eager for their own space, not only to make working easier but also to facilitate their social lives. The Pikes weren’t entirely straight laced, but they didn’t keep Bohemian hours, either.

"I hope you'll be a frequent guest,” Janice said. “We might not entertain so formally as you're used to, but after a day of working alone in a studio or at the typewriter it's nice to have the company of friends. Besides, I want you to get to know Gaila and Pavel."

"I wasn't always used to these formal parties," Christine said. "You forget that I married money. But I am interested in your new housemates. I don't think I've ever met a ballet dancer or a model before."

"I'm sure we can rustle up some tickets to the Ballets Russes," Janice said. "And you did just see Gaila—she was the middle figure in that large painting we just saw."

"Really?" Christine asked. "Oh, but it's so hard to tell what anyone really looks like from Mr. Picasso's works. One might think her skin was green!"

"She is a very beautiful girl," Janice said, "but it's really her spirit that attracts people. Everyone knows her. She's very … affectionate."

What Janice didn't say was that Gaila had singled her out and pounced on her within minutes of meeting her one evening in a cafe, or that they'd spent a long afternoon and early evening together in Gaila's tiny rented room, where Gaila had taught Janice a thing or twelve about the sapphic arts. It was exhilarating, being the student instead of the teacher, and fulfilled one of Janice's Parisian fantasies. She'd had to get a cab to take her back to the Pike residence, and was grateful that only Jim saw her as she ran upstairs to change for dinner.

Of course after dinner he'd snuck into her room and demanded every detail, smirking the entire time.

Aloud she said, "Soon enough I wouldn't be down the hall, anyway, as you'll be moving out when you find something."

"True," Christine said. "And I'll be asking you for a painting for it, of course."

"It would be an honor, " Janice replied, smiling. "When are your next appointments with the realtor?"

Christine's eyes lit up. "Tomorrow," she said.

"Sometimes I think you're declining these houses simply to spend more time with Spock," Janice said.

"Why Jan," Christine said, "what ever would I do that for?"

She smiled, broadly, and Janice smiled back, teasingly, because she was a carefree artist in Paris and there was no reason why a wealthy woman's crush on a physicist should affect her in any way.

But she did take another cookie.

* * *

_June 5, 1920_

Janice lowered herself into the tub and sighed as the water moved around her body. She'd been cooking all day while the others tidied up; turned out four artistic types could create quite a mess when no one was looking and it wasn't as if they could afford a woman to come in. They were lucky to scrape together enough to send out the laundry.

She leaned her head back, closing her eyes, when of course there was a knock at the door. "Yes?"

The door opened and Gaila peeked in. "Ooh, a bath!" she said. "Can I join you?"

"Of course," Janice replied.

It really shouldn't still surprise Janice the way Gaila could strip down with a minimum of fuss—she was an artists’ model after all; it was her job. Not to mention that she and Janice had been lovers for a month now—casual to be sure, but lovers all the same. Anyway Gaila helped Janice keep her mind off certain friends who were bound to be nothing other than friends.

Gaila slipped into the other end of the tub but quickly moved closer to Janice, pulling her into a kiss, and some of the water sloshed out of the tub as their wet bodies slid against each other.

"Hey, don't waste that," said a voice from the door.

Gaila broke off and turned around. "Hi Jim!" she said.

Janice frowned. "Jim, what are you doing in here?" she asked.

"Gotta shave," he said, walking in clad only in boxer shorts, "and you two are going to take hours in here as it is." He walked over to the tub and drew a pitcher full of hot water, which he poured into the basin.

"You're really going to do that now?" Janice asked.

"Why not?" Jim replied. "You ladies continue. Don't mind me."

Gaila gave Janice a look that implied she just might, when the door opened again.

"I wondered where everyone was," Pavel said, putting the lid down so he could sit atop the commode.

"Why don't we just sell tickets?" Janice asked.

"You know," Jim said as he sharpened his razor, "might not be such a bad idea. Then we could eat meat more than once a week."

"I'm not a whore, Jim Kirk," Gaila replied.

"Well I wouldn't let any of them _touch_ you," he said. "Just watch."

"It does not sound ethical," Pavel said.

"Oh, ethics," Gaila said dreamily. "Don't you just want to pinch his cheeks?"

"What I _want_ is to clean up before our guests arrive," Janice said.

"Who's stopping you?" Jim said.

Janice raised her hands as if to strangle him, though his back was turned. "Fine," she said. "Gaila, let me wash your hair."

* * *

"I must admit I'm rather excited," Christine said to Leo as they drove through the streets. "I haven’t really spent time with Jan and Jim's artist friends, as you have."

Leo smiled. "It's different," he said, "but you fit in most everyplace, so you should be just fine."

Christine had seen a good deal of Janice since her friend moved out of the admiral's home, but it had always been just the two of them meeting for coffee, or to go to a gallery or a museum. Janice was taking her role as art tutor very seriously, and Christine was grateful. Still, she had to wonder why she was never invited to meet more of Janice's artist friends.

Jim met them at the door. "Bones!" he shouted, over the music and the conversation behind him.

"Hello, darlin'," Leo said, leaning in to kiss him.

"Ooh, did you bring us hooch?" he asked.

"No," Leo said. "It's cheap but it's better than that."

Jim grinned. "Welcome to our house, Chris!" he said, hugging her.

"Oh, Jim, I love how you've set it up," she said, looking around the front room at the stylishly mismatched furniture, the sketches on the walls. "I haven't been here since you moved in."

"So let me take you on the grand tour," he said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "Bones, just bring that to Pavel in the kitchen, would you?"

"Sure thing," he replied.

Jim brought Christine over to the stairs. "Even our _rooms_ are clean," Jim said, whispering conspiratorially into Christine's ear. "Jan may be an artist, but this party set off a remarkable outbreak of bourgeois sentiment, and we've been cleaning for two days." He shook his head. "It was like being at _home_."

Christine laughed. "I'm glad there's someone other than Leo looking after you," she said.

"If that's what you call it," Jim replied. "Anyway here we are, our four little bedrooms and our nice little bathroom, share and share alike, which this afternoon meant we were all in here at the same time."

"My goodness," Christine said.

Jim opened the door to his room, and there was just enough space for a narrow bed, a desk facing the window with a typewriter, a box full of paper and writing implements, and a wardrobe. "Hey, no one's even necking in here. Guess the party hasn't got going yet."

"So all the bedrooms are set up like this?" she asked.

"Yep. Only Pavel's is full of ballet shoes and Jan's is full of sketchbooks and Gaila has little drawings the artists have given her tacked up on the wall." He led her out of the small room. "Let me get you a cocktail."

"Thank you," she said, and followed him down the back stairs. In the small kitchen, among some other guests, was a red-haired girl with green eyes and a big smile, laughing as she put ice into a cocktail shaker.

"Gaila, this is Christine," Jim said.

"I've heard so much about you!" Gaila said. "Would you like a Bronx or a Manhattan?"

"Manhattan, please," Christine said. "I've heard about you as well, from Jan."

"Isn't she lovely?" Gaila asked, pouring dark orange liquid from the shaker into a cocktail glass. "No twists tonight, but the liquor is cold," she said, handing the glass to Christine.

"Thank you," she said, and sipped.

Janice walked into the room then, a cigarette in one hand and an empty pitcher in the other. She wore a shimmery red dress, and her hair was in an old fashioned coiled braid. "Chris, you're here at last!" she said.

"Pleased to be here," Christine replied.

Janice gave Gaila a kiss, and Christine felt an odd little twinge. Not disapproval, surely, as she'd smiled a little to herself watching Leo and Jim kiss just now at the door. And she had no call to feel jealous as she was trying for Spock. But something about watching Janice hand off her cigarette to Gaila and take over cocktail duties made stomach go a little numb, and her smile felt forced. She took a piece of rumaki from a nearby tray.

"Spock should be here any moment," Janice said, grinning.

"Yes," Gaila said, "he speaks very highly of you. Between him and Janice and Jim and Leo I feel as though I know you already!"

"He's been here?" Christine asked.

"Yes, visiting Jim," Janice said. "They're great chums, apparently. And when Jim and Leo and Spock are all in a room together, my how the sparks fly!"

Christine laughed along; she'd seen enough of Spock with Leo to know that to be true.

"My goodness where are my manners?" Gaila said suddenly. "Christine would you like a cigarette?"

"Oh, yes please," Christine said.

"You smoke?" Janice asked.

"Only at the club," she replied, "with the other ladies. Roger—my former husband—he didn't care for it, and it wasn't the done thing to smoke in mixed company, men or women."

"Well, it is the done thing here," Gaila said, opening the cigarette box and offering it to Christine.

"Oh, they're brown, how interesting," she said. "Thank you."

"Here, I'll light you," Janice said, holding up a small metal lighter.

Christine leaned forward, putting the end of the cigarette into the flame. Janice was staring directly into her eyes and it was a little unsettling. She felt flustered. Perhaps it was just the novelty of being around a woman who sometimes looked at her as a man did? When they went to galleries Janice could be solicitous, but her attention was mainly on the paintings, not on Christine. Which was fine with Christine; she liked being around people with knowledge, which was a large part of her attraction to Spock. But this was different—perhaps Janice felt freer to act as she wished within her own home, surrounded by fellow artists, than she did in a public place.

Janice smiled at her. "Let's go into the dining room; the fellas are having one of those debates about art-with-a-capital-A."

Christine followed her, trying to get used to this idea of smoking in front of men. The jazz music from the living room phonograph was muted here, and around the table sat Jim and Leo, plus some others she didn't recognize.

Janice had the pitcher in one hand and her glass in the other, so she spoke around the cigarette held between her lips. "Here you go, fellas, and remember I'm only serving you because I'm your hostess."

"I'll make the next pitcher," Jim said, taking it from her and topping off the glasses around the table.

"You always take orders from women, Kirk?" asked one of the other men.

"I'm not in the army anymore," he replied, mildly, "so I don't take orders from anyone. But requests from a housemate, I'll respect."

A Negro man sitting next to Leo laughed. "Charlie's just sore because he made a play for Janice and she turned him down."

"Well, that just shows good sense on her part," Leo said. "Chris, that there is Charlie, and he's a sculptor," he explained, indicating the young man who’d just spoken. "Next to me is Clark, who's a writer like Jim. And next to _him_ is Pavel, Jim and Jan's other housemate."

"Is nice to meet you," Pavel said, bowing his head. "I have heard many good things."

"A pleasure," Christine replied. "You're very young to be a principal dancer."

"I am twenty-two!" Pavel said. "I just look young, always."

Clark nodded. "Gaila collects people," he said. "Half the people at this party met because of Gaila." He put his arm around Pavel's shoulders.

Christine remembered Leo mentioning that inverts tended to cluster around their own, and now she was seeing it first-hand. She wondered if she and Charlie were the only regular folks at this party, and hoped he didn't make a play for her.

"Anyway before we ran out of booze," Jim said, "Charlie was saying that for art to be art, it has to be purely aesthetic."

"Art cannot have a purpose other than to be," Charlie said, "otherwise it is not art. All of these so-called decorative arts, they are not properly art."

"A great carver or furniture maker like Chippendale is not an artist?" Christine asked.

"No," Charlie replied. "Nor yet any of this painted pottery."

"You mean, all those ancient Greek urns shouldn't be in the Louvre?" Leo asked.

"Perhaps because they're old, but not because they're _art_."

"I admit," Pavel said, "I would not want dance to have to exist for any other reason than to be beautiful, to be an expression of emotion."

"See, I'm not alone," Charlie said.

"But even that has a purpose," Jim said. "A cathartic one, like good drama."

"To be brought to tears by beauty is still only beauty existing for its own sake," Charlie replied.

Janice cleared her throat. "I would say that any theory of art that did not include Frank Lloyd Wright is not one to which I would subscribe," she said, quietly. "It wouldn't be sensible to say that buildings are not useful, and it wouldn't be accurate to say that they are not art, as well."

Charlie said nothing, and Leo chuckled.

"You got him there, Jan," he said.

Janice smiled, and Christine was glad to see that the firm opinions she expressed to Christine when they were alone, she also said openly in front of the others, particularly as so many of them were men. But then Janice was a bit better at this New Woman business than Christine was.

There was a tap at the slightly open door to the living room, and then Spock poked his head in. "I wanted to let you know that Scotty and I have arrived," he said. "Scotty has been waylaid by Gaila, whom he had not met." Spock turned his head. "I believe they might be dancing."

Janice put out her cigarette. "All right, Pavel," she said. "Enough talk. Let's cut the rug and express our emotions."

They jumped up and went past Spock through the door into the living room.

Christine sat up slightly straighter in her chair, and smoothed her hair. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Leo looking at Spock, motioning his hand in some way.

"Christine," Spock said at last, "I am afraid I am not adept at the new jazz dance styles, but if you would do me the honor in spite of this?"

She looked up and saw that he was holding out his hand to her. "Why thank you," she said. "I would be happy to." As she stood up Jim took possession of her half-finished cigarette.

"What?" he said at Leo's scowl. "She didn't put it out, and they don't grow on trees." He picked up her glass. "Here, I bet this is bourbon."

Leo grumbled a little, but took the glass just the same.

Out in the living room, the furniture had been pushed back to make room. Christine hadn't noticed all the ladies when she arrived, as she'd been whisked through the room so quickly by Jim, but judging by their looks they were likely Gaila's modeling friends. Gaila was still dancing with Scotty, and Janice with Pavel, but the other ladies were simply using each other as partners, and Christine wondered idly how many of them were lesbians like Janice and apparently Gaila.

"I believe one can foxtrot to this jazz music," Spock said, "if you like."

"I'm a little rusty," Christine admitted. "I'll just follow your lead."

"Very well," Spock said. He took her into his arms and they began to glide around the room.

Christine couldn't remember the last time she'd actually danced with a man. Roger wasn't fond of dancing and while she'd danced with other men at parties after their marriage, as his health began to fail they went to fewer and fewer public gatherings. During that last difficult year nearly her only social outlets were her Cosmopolitan Club meetings and the volunteering she did for the war effort, where her nursing experience allowed her to organize the others. Spock's hold was light but he lead her firmly from step to step, proving remarkably easy to follow. He said nothing, and didn't look at her often, but that was all right; after all, he was holding her.

Scotty and Gaila were more adventurous in their dancing, as were Janice and Pavel; clearly they were up on the latest trends. But they were also dancing further apart, only holding hands as they kicked their legs in time with the quick jazz music. For her part Christine was happy to be in Spock's arms, if only because they were dancing.

* * *

By midnight the party was at full swing. It seemed that nearly everyone that Janice knew in Paris was in the house, not that this was so very many people. The Pikes had even stopped by for a cocktail on their way home from the theater, and seeing the admiral surrounded by several ballerinas from Pavel's company, who'd been drawn to him like flies, made Janice glad she'd brought her Brownie Instamatic Camera with her to Paris.

Janice walked into the pantry to get some more crackers, anything to soak up the free-flowing booze, but stopped short when she saw two other people in the small space. "Gaila?" she asked.

Gaila turned, and Janice could see the man behind her was Scotty. He had his arms around her waist and they had clearly been kissing. "Oh, Jan! I'm sorry."

"Don't be," she said, "but don't you have a room upstairs?"

"Clark and Pavel were in it," she said.

"Why isn't Pavel in his own room?"

"Someone else was in there," she said.

"Oh honestly," Janice said, rolling her eyes. "Well, you can use my room as long as you don't muss the bed too much. I'd rather it be people I know, at least."

"Thanks, Jan!" Gaila said, and kissed her on the lips.

"Go on, off with you," Janice said, and they left, Gaila pulling a slightly sheepish looking Scotty along behind her and up the back stairs.

As Janice looked for the tin of crackers, she found herself wishing that she could be as loving and free-spirited as Gaila. Gaila had it the right way: give yourself to people in the moment, with no regrets later. Janice certainly had no regrets about Gaila turning her attentions elsewhere; she knew that she and Gaila were just having some fun. There were some other girls to have fun with, out in the living room. She really should join them.

Before she could turn around she heard a voice behind her. "Can I help you find something?" he asked, and oh, of course it was the ever-persistent Charlie.

"No," she said, holding up the tin. "I've found it, thanks."

"So have I," he said, moving closer until he had pushed her back against the shelves.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Oh Jan," he said, and she could smell the alcohol on his breath. "You know that you drive me crazy."

"I don't mean to, I assure you," she said, and tried to walk around him, but he put out his arm, blocking her.

"Why do you play these games with me?" he asked. "We both know where this is headed."

"Why can't you understand that I don't want to go _anywhere_ with you?" she asked.

"Look at that fire in your eyes," he said. "You lesbian girls are all the same, aren't you? You just need a man." He leaned in and kissed her.

Janice held her mouth shut as he licked at it, disgusted, and when he pulled back she slapped him. "Stop that!"

"I love it when they fight back," he said, chuckling.

She braced her arms on the shelves, drew up her legs, and kicked out as hard as she could, hitting him in the stomach. He let go of the shelf, stumbling backwards into the hall and landing on his behind.

"What the hell?" he shouted. "You bitch, what do you think you're doing?"

Jim appeared then, Leo just behind him, and she wasn't sure she'd ever been so glad to see someone. "Charlie, what are you up to?"

Charlie climbed to his feet. "She kicked me!" he said, pointing to Janice.

"Of course she did," Jim said, "because you cornered her in the damn pantry after she's made it clear that she doesn't desire your attentions."

"Some girls just need a little more persuading," Charlie said, "which you'd know if you were any kind of real man."

Jim's back straightened. "I think you'd better leave our house," he said, "or I'll show you what a real man I am when I throw you out the door."

Charlie stared Jim in the eye, but backed down and walked away. Leo walked after him, likely to make sure he left.

"Are you all right?" Jim asked.

Janice was leaning back against the shelves. "I'm fine," she said. "I'll be fine."

"That was quite a kick you gave him," Jim said.

"I'm used to taking care of myself," she replied.

"Well, you don't have to all the time," he said, "and it's not like you don't take care of the rest of us."

"I suppose that's true."

Christine poked her head in. "Jim, why don't you let her come out of the pantry?" she said.

"Oh, right, sorry," he said, stepping back from the door.

Janice took Christine's hand and came into the kitchen.

"Sit down, let me make you some tea," she said, guiding Janice to a wayward dining room chair sitting in a corner by the back door. "And we'll open the window, get you some air."

"Thanks," Janice said. Sitting down, she realized she was shaking, and was grateful for Christine's calm practicality.

"I didn't like that Charlie," Christine said, putting the water on to heat, "but you were braver than I'd ever think of being."

"Different kinds of bravery," Janice replied. "It was brave of you, staying with Roger as long as you did, and then picking up stakes and moving here."

"I suppose," she said, reaching into the ice box for some milk. "I'm trying to get used to the idea of being an independent woman. I'm not sure I'm doing a very good job at it."

"It's easy for me to say," Janice replied. "I've been on my own since I was young, taking care of my siblings. But you were a nurse. I'd say that's just as independent as a teacher. I'm sure you'll grow back into it."

"I'm trying to," Christine replied.

They were quiet for a bit, and Janice let herself slump down in the chair and rest, until she was startled by the kettle whistle.

"Here you go," Christine said, handing her the cup of milky tea. She slipped a lock of hair that had come loose back behind Jan's ear.

"Thank you," she said. "I guess the nursing comes right back to you?"

"All that training," she replied, and smiled. "It's nice to put it to some use."

"Then I'm glad you were here," Janice said, and sipped her tea, feeling calmer already.

* * *

By four am only a few die-hards remained. Whoever had control of the gramophone was going for softer, sweeter sounds than they’d been playing earlier. Janice took a few glasses from the dining room into the kitchen but decided the rest of the tidying up could wait.

Clark had whisked Pavel away a bit earlier, and Gaila and Scotty were likely in Gaila's room by now, as her door was closed and they were no longer in Jan's room. Janice got the headache powder out of the bathroom and put a spoonful into a glass of water. Armed with her precautionary measure, she went back downstairs into the living room.

There, Jim and Leo were sitting on the couch nearest to the gramophone—clearly they were responsible for the soft music—and were curled into each other, talking softly. Christine was on one of the larger couches with Spock, and Janice meant to just walk past them but Christine held out her hand.

"Janice, darling," she said. "Come sit with me. How are you feeling?"

"Oh I'm fine now, thanks to you."

"Good," Christine said, smiling. "I meant to tell you, I've decided on a house."

"Have you really?" Janice asked. "One of those two you showed me the other day?"

"I'm going to take the smaller one," she said, "as you suggested."

"Well, you'd said you left New York because your house was so empty," Janice said.

"Spock also liked the smaller one," she said, looking up at him.

"But you did not," Spock said. "What occurred to change your mind?"

"This party," she said. "Or this house. It's so warm and cozy, and there are four of you. I thought, why would I want something so much larger for just me? And there's no need to spend the money—none of my new friends here care about appearances like that. I want to have a welcoming home, like Eve, not something imposing."

"No home with you as its mistress could be imposing or cold," Janice said.

"Oh, that is a lovely thing to say," Christine replied. "Promise you'll come and help me find just the right places for those two paintings I purchased with your guidance. And you can choose the spot that will wait for whatever you might want to create."

"Of course," Janice said. "I would be happy to."

"Thank you."

They were silent for a moment, then Janice asked, "Did you have a nice time?"

"Your friends are lovely," she replied, the slur in her voice sounding not so much a result of drink as charmingly sleepy. "So welcoming. I'd love to see more of them."

"You have a knack of fitting in wherever you are," Janice said. "I should stop keeping you all to myself."

"Oh, I don't mind that," she said. "But once I'm settled in the house, I'd like to go out in the evenings more often."

"Would you really?" Janice asked. "Smoking and drinking and up all hours at some cafe listening to the fellas gab and keeping them from pinching you?"

"Sister, you haven't been pinched until you've worked in a hospital. And I can't imagine they really pinch you."

"Not much," Janice admitted. "Charlie was an exception; everyone else knows which way I'm inclined."

"Oh," Christine said, and leaned forward. "I'm sorry about Gaila."

"What about her?" Janice asked.

Spock leaned forward, too. "She seems quite taken with Scotty," he said.

"Oh, that," Janice said. "Gaila and I aren't like that. Gaila does as she pleases. Sometimes it pleases her to kiss me."

"I see," Christine said. "Is that always the way with lesbians? I've never known any before."

"Well, Gaila wouldn't call herself a lesbian," Janice said. "She fancies men and women."

"You're so pretty, Jan," Christine said, and gave a little squeeze to Janice's hand. "I'm sure you have your pick of lady friends."

"Perhaps," Janice replied, her heart fluttering in spite of herself. "But my work is my real priority, for now at least."

Christine's only answer was a happy hum, and her eyelids started to droop.

"I believe it is time I took you home," Spock said, "or you might fall asleep here on this couch."

"Thank you, Spock," Christine said. "That would be lovely."

"I wonder," Spock said, lowering his voice, "if I should offer the same to Leo? After all, he would be going back to the admiral's house, as Christine is."

Janice shook her head. "You can ask as you leave," she said, "but I think he'll be breakfasting _chez nous_."

Spock raised his eyebrows. "Quite," he replied. "He is often present when I visit Jim unexpectedly. Apparently they have become quite close in a short period of time."

"Oh I don't know," Christine said. "They had those years since that first meeting. I know Leo was thinking of Jim, and wondering about him. So it isn't such a short period really. More like, compressed. And sometimes, Spock, you just _know_."

"Indeed," Spock said, though he sounded dubious.

He rose, and gave Christine a hand up. Janice ran upstairs to retrieve her wrap and bag from Jim's bed. When she came back downstairs Jim and Leo were standing, too, though Leo didn't look as though he was leaving. They all said their goodbyes, and Spock and Christine went on their way.

"Please," Jim said, shutting the door, "can we leave the clean up until tomorrow?"

"God, yes," Janice said.

"Also," Jim began.

She turned to him, and saw he was looking at her strangely. "What is it?"

"The three of you," Jim said, "what with Chris setting her cap for Spock and his not noticing, and you still so taken with her while making sure that she doesn't notice. You're showing restraint which is … different, for you."

Janice crossed her arms. "I don't know what purpose would be served if she did notice," she replied.

"Oh I don't know about that," Leo said. "With you, she seems more like the Chris I'm used to."

"Are you encouraging me?" Janice asked.

"Not exactly," Leo replied. "Sometimes you gotta shove things right under her nose, is what I'm saying."

"Perhaps," Janice said.

* * *

__  
****  
four  
  


_June 15, 1920_

Christine had been to the ballet in New York, of course, as traveling companies from Europe would spend some weeks in the city every year. But she'd never before known any dancers.

Jan's housemate Pavel was to be dancing the principal role at the Ballets Russes for the next two weeks. They were glad of it, as shortly after the party Clark had thrown Pavel over, and the young man was quite heartbroken. Christine was happy to go with Janice, Jim, Leo and Gaila to the performance, and even more pleased that they had invited her to the cafe afterwards for an impromptu supper party in Pavel's honor.

Leo came to her home to get her—he would be her "official" escort for the evening.

"Flowers, Leo?" she asked, taking the offered bunch of late tulips. "They're lovely, but …"

"Can't exactly get 'em for Jim," he said.

"You just like playing gentleman," Christine said, handing them to her butler.

He shrugged. "I was trained for it," he replied, "just as sure as I was trained in medicine. More so, since they started in earlier. But Jim isn't much for chivalry. Funny, though; I used to hate doing it with Jocelyn. Now that I have Jim, I kinda look forward to escorting a pretty lady to the ballet."

"Then I'm happy to oblige," she said.

She wasn't surprised, when they arrived at the theater, to see Gaila in green and Scotty pleased as punch to be escorting her, in stark contrast to many of the men who'd been dragged to the ballet by their wives. (Christine had never been able to convince Roger to attend.)

Janice had chosen a deep red crushed velvet dress that she'd worn a few times to Eve Pike's dinner parties. Her elaborate up do, into which she'd twisted some ribbons that matched the dress, was hardly the current mode, but Janice had a natural elegance that didn't require a new dress or the latest fashion to turn heads. Jim, who'd always seemed born to be in black tie, looked proud to have her on his arm, and Christine wondered if he had the same opinion as Leo in the matter of escorts.

The three couples made their way to the box Christine had secured. Pavel did not disappoint, as Christine knew he would not; the young man was always very serious when the subject of dance came up. He threw himself into the performance, showing both a passion and a command that Christine had rarely had the privilege to see.

They made their way to a cafe where Pavel would join them later, and Christine was amazed at how different the same cafe was in the evening as opposed to the afternoon. It was loud, even raucous, and full of cigarette smoke. People were piled in close together, drinking red wine out of tumblers and picking at communal platters of chops and towers of _fruit de mer_.

The men led them to some tables and they were just settling in for a late supper when Jim spotted someone in the crowd and stood.

"Sulu!" he called out, and waved when the man turned around.

He was … not a Chinaman, Christine remembered; Hikaru Sulu's people were from Japan. He was quite a handsome man, with a head full of black hair slicked down, the loveliest cheekbones, and a broad smile that immediately marked him as American. Accompanying him was a beautiful Negress in a violet dress; Christine wondered if she was the singer Jim had mentioned some time ago. The two made their way over to the table.

Scotty stood to shake hands with his old friend. "Damn good to see you! Join us!"

"Is there room?" Hikaru asked.

"It's a cafe," Jim said. "There's never room!" But Leo and Scotty quickly pulled over two more chairs and a small table from nearby.

Hikaru turned to the woman on his arm. "Nyota, you remember Jim from Chicago."

Her eyes narrowed. "I do," she said, and clearly that encounter had not been entirely positive.

Hikaru only chuckled at her reaction. "And I've mentioned Scotty, he's the mechanical engineer who made sure our planes stayed in the air during the war."

"Of course," she said, shaking his hand.

"These are some of my friends," Jim said. "Leo is a doctor, Jan is the painter I met on the crossing. Gaila is a model, and this is Christine, Leo's old friend, who was my hostess this evening."

"Welcome to Paris," Christine said, shaking his hand.

"Thanks," he replied. "And this is my singer, and soon to be a big star, Nyota Uhura."

"So pleased to meet you all," she said. "And please, call me Nyota."

"I didn't get to call you Nyota," Jim replied.

"That's because you were impolite," Nyota said.

Leo chuckled. "He sometimes is," he said, "but we chalk it up to enthusiasm. Please, sit down, both of you." He signaled for the waiter.

Hikaru looked Leo up and down as he sat. "So that must be your Bones," he said. "I can see why Jim kept thinking about you."

"And here I thought it was the _conversation_ ," Leo replied, and Christine could see the flush on his cheeks even in the low lighting of the cafe.

Jim shook his head. "You know exactly how handsome I think you are, Bones," he said.

"Yeah but you're in _love_ ," Leo replied.

"I think you're handsome, too," Christine said, "and I'm not in love with you."

Leo's only reply was a harrumph, which made Janice giggle.

Hikaru turned to her. "I'm very happy to meet you, Jan. Jim needs friends he isn't trying to seduce."

Janice looked thoughtful. "I'm not entirely sure he didn't try to seduce me," she replied. "He certainly charmed me."

"He charms everyone he can," Hikaru said, smiling. "Though he failed with Nyota here."

"I'm willing to give him a second chance," she said, "provided he behaves himself."

"That's a tall order," Leo replied.

Jim rolled his eyes but didn't respond. "How is Paris treating you so far?"

"Pretty well," he replied. "None of the problems with accommodations or venues like we had in the States. Got her set up in a great place and the show is a real ripper. I'm sure you'll all enjoy it."

"Spoken like a true showman," Jim said. "We look forward to it."

"So what brings you all out?" Hikaru asked.

"The Ballets Russes," Janice replied. "Our housemate Pavel was the principal male dancer this evening."

"Say, that's where we were, too," Hikaru said.

Christine looked up at the door and saw Pavel coming in. Jim beckoned to him.

"What did you think of the ballet?" Jim asked.

"Oh, it was wonderful," said Nyota. "So lyrical, so majestic."

"Your friend Pavel was magnificent," Hikaru added.

"Thank you," Pavel said, startling Hikaru slightly as Pavel was standing right behind him. "I am glad you enjoyed the ballet."

Hikaru turned around to look at Pavel. "Yes," he said.

"It is a very good one, I think. And no riots, that is always beneficial." He pulled over a chair and sat down next to Hikaru. "Jim tells me you also have worked with dancers."

"Not dancers like you," he said, then quickly added, "I mean, I don't usually represent ballet dancers. But I certainly appreciate your craft."

"I dance also in other styles," Pavel said. "I have been taking lessons in tap. I saw a show and thought it would be an interesting thing to know."

Hikaru raised his eyebrows. "Do your friends at the Ballets Russes know about this?" he asked.

"Of course not," Pavel said. "The ballet, it is lovely, but I have been doing it since I was very small, in Russia, before the Revolution and everything changed. I would like to do something new, a newer style, I think."

"Well," Hikaru said, "there are several acts in town that I'm familiar with. I could take you, introduce you to some people."

Pavel smiled. "I would appreciate that greatly."

Leo leaned over to Jim and muttered, just loud enough for Christine to hear, "Matchmaking?"

Jim grinned. "Just introducing. The rest is up to them."

The champagne came then, complete with a toast for Pavel, and food followed shortly after that. It being her first time in the cafe at night, Christine was happy to just observe her surroundings, listening in as the others talked about this or that artist or writer or similar. Other friends of Jim and Janice's, some of whom remembered Christine from their party, came and spent a few moments at the table before moving on. It was a stimulating, informal sort of conversation, and Christine soaked up as much as she could.

Janice left the table at one point, flitting off to another table where a brunette girl talked to her at length, their heads very close together. But of course the room was quite loud.

"I think she's a sculptor," Leo said.

"Who?" Christine asked.

"The girl talking to Janice. You've only been staring at them for the last ten minutes."

"I've done nothing of the sort."

Leo merely raised an eyebrow at her.

She turned to Nyota, who'd been in conversation with Gaila for much of the evening. "Is it like this in Chicago?" she asked.

"Maybe in a few speakeasies," she replied. "But then you have to deal with the gangsters. And not quite as much mixing in of the writers and artists. I think only Paris is like Paris." She paused. "I understand you came here from New York?"

"Yes, but I wasn't in with the artists there," she said. "Society, mostly."

"I sang for a few functions, and only for the more adventurous of the society ladies in Chicago," Nyota said, "and even that, I found stifling."

"It was, sometimes," Christine admitted, "but there were ways around it. And I loved my husband."

"Loved?" Nyota asked.

"He fell ill," Christine said. "We're no longer married."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Nyota said. "Is that why you're here, to start anew?"

"Yes," she said. "I expect everyone in this room is here for the same reason."

"Well, if only a few of them come to see me sing, we should be in good shape."

Christine cocked her head. "When is your debut?" she asked.

"We open in a week, why?"

"I'd like to host a little supper," Christine said. "As you and Hikaru are friends of Jim's—"

"I'm not really a friend of Jim Kirk," Nyota said.

"But you've had a pleasant time this evening," Christine said.

"Yes," she said, smiling. "I have."

"Then if you have no other plans we'd be delighted if you could join us."

Nyota smiled. "I'd be happy to!" she said.

"Splendid!" Christine said. She turned to Leo, but out of the corner of her eye she saw Janice across the room. She stood up, waved to Jim to get his attention, then walked out of the cafe with the brunette.

"Lost your date, Jim," Leo said.

"Yeah," Jim said, "typical. I take her to the ballet, and she leaves the party with someone else."

"Well, I'm a sure thing," Leo said.

"Thank goodness for that," Jim replied.

Nyota laughed, which made Jim smile broadly, and perhaps he was charming her in spite of himself.

Christine laughed too, but she couldn't help feeling put out, not unlike she had at the party. Why, she had no idea—Janice's love affairs were no business of hers, so long as they satisfied Janice herself.

Besides, she had a supper party to plan.

* * *

_June 21, 1920_

Now that all her own things had been moved in, Christine was even happier that she'd chosen the smaller house. She hadn't realized until she was unpacking how very little she'd brought with her from her old lives in New York and Atlanta. She adored the furniture she'd purchased in Paris, all in the new modern style that Eve also favored, that was so far from the fussy, ornate decor she'd left behind in New York. They went with the city's sleek fashions that hadn't been "reinterpreted" by New York dressmakers to be appropriate for their clientele. She'd need to buy more books—certainly Jim would be happy to help with that—and the art she'd already bought with Janice was just the thing for the living room. It needed a few more personal touches, to be sure, but the little house was already beginning to feel like home. Like _her_ home.

Janice, Jim and Leo were regular visitors, of course, and the four of them gathered for dinner as often as not. She'd also had the Pikes over twice already. And tonight she was hosting pre-theater cocktails and a post-theater supper for Nyota Uhura's opening night performance.

Janice came by early so they could primp for the evening together. Christine had forgotten what it was like to have girlfriends; she hadn't had any to speak of since her nursing days in Atlanta. Janice brought some lip rouge and kohl eyeliner, which she helped Christine apply. Christine never wore more than powder; when she looked in the mirror she almost didn't recognize herself.

Janice's face appeared in the mirror next to her. "Now you look like the New Woman!" she said gleefully. "Who knows, you might even bob your hair next."

Christine met Janice's eyes. "Don't you ever bob your hair, Jan. It would be _tragic_."

"Everyone says that!" she replied. "But I'll promise _you_ that I won't." She hugged Christine from behind.

"So," Christine said, "will your friend be joining us?"

"My friend?" Janice asked.

"The sculptor, I think Leo said? From the other night in the cafe." Christine smiled.

"Oh, no," Janice said. "She's just—it isn't like that."

Christine turned around then. "Not ever?" she asked. "No attachments?"

Janice sat down on the settee at the foot of Christine's bed. "If there's one thing I learned as a young girl in Chicago," she said, "it's that it just isn't possible. Not for inverts like me. I'm not sure we're capable of love."

Christine felt a wave of sadness, but kept it from her face, as she was sure Janice would see it as condescending or patronizing. "Not even for Jim and Leo?"

"They're an exception," Janice said. "They met during the war and all of that. Even the admiral thinks it's romantic. But look at Miss Barney and her crowd. She's had so many lovers."

"Miss Stein and Miss Toklas?"

Janice laughed a little. "All right. Maybe in Paris. _Maybe_."

"It's just—Janice, you're so kind and smart and interesting and strong, I just can't imagine your not having that kind of love if you want it."

Janice smiled. "Well, when I'm lucky enough to meet someone who makes me feel as Spock makes you feel, and they're amenable, I'll consider that."

"Good," Christine said, though to be honest she hadn't been thinking about Spock just then, and realized she rarely did when Janice was around. Why, the other night at the cafe she hadn't even missed him. Perhaps that was what Paris was doing to _her_.

Christine and Janice went downstairs to see Leo already mixing drinks and talking to Gaila and Pavel. Sticking near the bar had always been Leo's party habit since Christine had met him; under his gruff exterior he was a bit shy, but if he was shaking the cocktails then everyone else had to come to him. Not to mention it meant he always had a drink nearby.

"Well!" he said. "Don't you look modern!"

"Is that a compliment?" she asked, taking the martini he offered.

"I'd say so," he replied, and smiled. "Jim should be here soon; he went to get Hikaru."

Spock and Scotty arrived shortly after that. Scotty had a flower for Gaila's hair and compliments all around. To Christine's eye they looked like a good match, as both were eager for a laugh, but were actually serious about their own work. At least they seemed to enjoy each other's company.

Spock, gratifyingly, came directly to Christine's side. He hadn't yet called on Christine in her new home, which she found frustrating, but she was willing to be patient. She knew with scientific types it sometimes took a good deal of warming up before they felt comfortable making any kind of overtures, so she was careful not to be too forward. They had been to lunch twice since Janice and Jim's party, however, and she considered that to be somewhat encouraging.

"May I say that you appear quite different this evening?" Spock said.

Christine smiled. "We thought since we were going to the theater we might dress up," she replied. "Leo said I looked modern."

"You do indeed," Spock said.

"Do you approve?" Christine asked.

"It is not my place to approve or disapprove of how a woman dresses," Spock replied. "I would hope that she would dress to suit herself."

"Really?" Christine asked. "Because I am thinking of bobbing my hair."

"I am sure that anything you might decide would be equally aesthetic," Spock replied.

"What a sweet thing to say," Christine said, smiling.

"Yeah, that's quite a compliment to the lady, Spock," Leo said, and Christine knew that the only thing keeping him from rolling his eyes was his wish to stay in her good graces.

"I merely meant that the lady, as you said, is a much better judge of her own appearance than I would be," Spock replied.

"I think she'd look lovely with bobbed hair," Janice said. "But as you say, Spock, I would hope she would do that for herself, and not someone else."

"Of course," Christine said, though she wasn't sure they were still all talking about the same thing. "I'm an independent woman now, after all."

"That you are," Leo said, and took her empty glass.

"Hello, hello!" said Jim from the doorway as he was shown in. "And look what the cat dragged in!"

Spock came forward to greet Hikaru, as he hadn't seen his old friend since he'd arrived in Paris, and there were handshakes and back patting all around.

"I'm very much looking forward to seeing Nyota perform," Christine said.

"As am I," Spock said. "I do not usually attend performances of popular music or dance, but I admit that I am greatly intrigued by Jim's description of Miss Uhura's review."

Hikaru put a hand on Spock's shoulder. "Brother, I'm telling you, she kills it, and I don't mean maybe. And there's more of that longhair noise that gets you, too."

"Classical and vernacular," Spock said. "I will have to see how they can coexist on one program, let alone be well-suited to one performer."

"Just you wait," Jim said. "Now, do we all have a glass? I'd like to propose a toast to Miss Nyota Uhura, that her performance tonight be a rousing success."

* * *

"She was superb," Leo said as they as they made their way backstage.

"Isn't she the cat's pajamas?" Jim said. "Even better than when I saw her in Chicago."

"What was changed?" Janice asked.

"Well, the opera bit wasn't in the show before," he replied. "She did that at an after party later, but clearly they decided to incorporate it. The dancing is much more intricate than it was, and her costumes more refined."

"Her tap was beautiful," Pavel said, his eyes glowing. "I can believe that she was a ballet dancer, once. Her lines—"

"—are exquisite," Spock said. He blinked, as if coming out of a fog, and looked at Jim. "I shall return," he said. "I must run an errand, but I shall return."

"All right?" Jim said as Spock made his way backward, through the crowd and out the door.

Janice looked to Christine, who'd been sitting next to him during the show, but she only shrugged.

Leo just shook his head. "Look, there's Hikaru," he said.

They followed the manager into a room backstage that was clearly already set up for a party, complete with bartender. "Please help yourselves," Hikaru said. "Nyota's changing and will be in shortly."

Others came into the room while they waited, some of them society types that knew Christine, some artists that Janice and Jim were acquainted with, plus the Divers, a very stylish American couple nearly everyone knew. They mingled for a while, chatting.

"Weren't her costumes just the end?" Nicole Diver asked. "That violet gown she wore for the operatic segment, so elegant."

Gaila nodded. "And the fuchsia tap costume," she said. "So clever, to make her look like a ballerina at first, and then the outer fabric unwinds!"

"And her performance was so _joyous_ ," Christine said. "Often these shows are overwrought and emotional."

Hikaru came back into the room and tapped a glass to get their attention. "Ladies and gentlemen, may I present the woman of the hour, Miss Nyota Uhura." He waved at the door with a flourish as she walked through it, resplendent in a black cocktail dress and jeweled headband. They applauded her performance anew, and she smiled with a particular delight that Janice recognized; she'd probably had the same expression on her face when she found out she was to go to Paris.

Several moved forward to offer their personal congratulations but Janice hung back with Gaila and Christine.

"She's even lovelier up close," Gaila said with a sigh.

"Someone has a new pash," Janice said.

"Perhaps," Gaila said. "Though I'm sure she'll have her pick after tonight."

"The Divers certainly look eager to court her," Christine said.

"For their parlor or their bed, do you think?" Janice asked, making the other ladies giggle.

"What happened to our middle-western girl of the prairie?" Gaila asked.

"Spending all that time with Jim Kirk, I expect," Christine said.

Janice raised one eyebrow, though she knew it just made her look more like Jim. "Is that because he's had a similar effect on Leo?" she asked.

"No, I expect Leo was cynical and world-weary in grammar school," Christine replied. "Jim just seems to always have a deeper understanding of people's motives. Which isn't a bad thing in this day and age."

Janice was about to agree, when Spock suddenly came back into the room. It was sweet, really, the way Christine lit up when he was around. Janice felt a little churlish for how often she'd lost patience with Christine's slow and steady pursuit of Spock; if she liked him, why shouldn't she have him?

"Oh, Spock, you've returned," Christine said, but Spock paid them no mind, walking directly to Nyota, who was still speaking with the Divers.

She turned to him. "Hello," she said, smoothly, as if he wasn't interrupting her at all, and held out her hand.

"Miss Uhura," Spock said, shaking it. "I am Spock, and I am a physicist. I found your performance this evening most interesting."

"Thank you," she said. "I'm so glad you enjoyed it."

"I wanted to give you these," he said, offering her a little posy of violets clearly purchased from a flower girl near the theater. "They match the color of your gown."

Dick Diver chuckled. "The done thing is a dozen roses, old man," he said.

"Oh, I see," Spock replied, pulling them back.

"Which makes these all the more dear," Miss Uhura said, taking them from him and inhaling their scent. "They're darling. Thank you so much, Mr. Spock."

"You are very welcome," Spock said. "I must say, I found your mingling of classical, modern and vernacular styles in both your singing and dancing to be fascinating." He glanced at the Divers, then added, "But perhaps this is not the appropriate occasion to discuss such technicalities."

Miss Uhura smiled even wider. "I'm afraid not," she said, "but perhaps some other time?"

Spock nodded, and then began to speak another language that Janice assumed was Italian, given that Miss Uhura had sung a selection from Rossini earlier in the evening. Miss Uhura's eyes widened as he spoke, and then she answered him in kind with the grace of a fluent speaker. Spock shook her hand again, then walked away.

"He just asked what day he could come to call," Jim said, appearing at Jan's side rather suddenly. "And she replied that she'd be happy to welcome him on Tuesday."

"I … see," Christine said, and Janice wondered if the real reason Jim and Leo had moved over to them was that Leo wanted to stand next to Christine. Her smile from earlier was gone, replaced with a rather blank expression, but then, they were still in public.

As Spock walked toward them, Leo asked him, "How did you know that she spoke Italian?"

Spock cocked his head. "She sang in Italian, did she not?"

"Some singers learn songs phonetically," Leo said, "using a translation to understand the meaning. It isn't as though every opera singer knows German and French and Italian, but they are called upon to sing all three."

"I had not thought of that," Spock replied. "I am very glad she does speak Italian; I would not have wanted to embarrass her publicly."

"Miss Uhura speaks several languages, including French, Italian and Spanish," Hikaru said from behind Spock. Janice turned and saw that Hikaru had Nyota with him.

"Thank you so much for coming tonight," she said. "I hope you enjoyed it. I know Hikaru appreciates the support, as do I."

Christine stepped forward slightly. "It was incredible, Nyota," she said. "Even more than we expected. How delightful to see you in your element."

"Thank you," she replied.

"I hope you can still come to dinner with us," Christine said.

"I have had other invitations," she continued, her glance flicking ever so briefly to the Divers, "but your table is more suited to my interests, so I was glad to have a reason to decline."

"Splendid," Christine said, and her eyes had that same triumphant flash Janice had seen in them back at the dinner party at the Pike's, the day they met. "We'll leave you to your other guests, but Hikaru can bring you later."

"We shouldn't be more than an hour behind you," he said.

They left then, Janice in a cab with Leo, Jim and Christine, who, now that she had no need to keep up appearances, looked as though she was just barely keeping it together. Janice hesitated, then reached across the bench seat to take Christine's hand in her own, squeezing it a little, and Christine squeezed back.

Leo and Jim were sitting opposite them, and Leo leaned forward to put a hand on Christine's knee. "Quite a coup, stealing her out from under the Divers," he said.

"Wasn't it just?" Christine said. She was smiling again, and if Janice didn't already love Leo for being so lovely to Jim, she would love him now for knowing just how to cheer Christine up.

But she still didn't let go of Christine's hand.

* * *

Christine had to bring all her social graces to bear for her little supper party. She sat Spock at the other end of the table from Nyota but really that was because he'd already had an opportunity to speak with her that evening and was planning to call on her; no need to help him monopolize the guest of honor. That Christine sat Spock at the other end of the table from her own place as well was a little more personal but of this she was unashamed. She spoke to Nyota at length and found her charming and intelligent, and wondered what a woman like her might have done if she hadn't had so many disadvantages. Despite Spock's clear interest, she decided to continue to reach out to this woman—after all, one could never have too many female friends.

Christine also purposely sat Pavel near Hikaru. Janice said that Pavel had been moping around ever since things ended with Clark and Christine had noticed the way they looked at each other when they were introduced at the cafe a few nights previous. Even if nothing came of it, they'd have a pleasant evening of conversation which was good for the ego, as Mr. Freud put it. She was mildly surprised that after only a few months in Paris she had already adapted to a social life that included a great many artistic temperaments, not to mention inverts, and her mother would have been shocked to see Christine welcoming a Negress, a Japanese man, and a Jewish man at her table. But this was a new century and she was a New Woman.

Besides, they were a good deal more fun and interesting than anyone she'd known in New York society.

She allowed herself just a moment of being meanly glad that Spock was not the one to escort Nyota back to her hotel. Hikaru stepped forward, appropriately enough, but also offered Pavel a ride in their car. Spock left with Scotty and Gaila, and once he did the others, bless their hearts, loyally expressed their surprise at his actions at the theater.

Leo was particularly affronted. "I'm sorry I ever said I thought he was your sort of fellow," Leo said. "And just when I was starting to like him."

"I've never seen him behave like that," Jim said.

"And after stringing you along!" Janice said.

"Oh but that's the worst of it," Christine said, feeling all her stoic resolve evaporate in the face of their affection. "He never once made a promise he didn't keep, never once implied anything he didn't follow through on. At most he merely lacked indifference, and was happy to be in my company, but that's true of all of you as well, isn't it? He's my friend, and so are you. I can't even resent her, because she's nothing but delightful." She dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief, and noted the black kohl left behind on the white linen. "But you know what I think would make me feel better?"

"What is that?" Janice asked.

"I'd like to bob my hair."

Jan's eyes widened, just slightly. "I was just teasing you, earlier," she said.

She sat up a little straighter. "I know, but I'm a modern woman, aren't I? An American woman of independent means. No reason not to. I rather like all this paint you put on my face. I should like the hair to go with it. I came to Paris to start a new life; why shouldn't I look like a new person?"

"Are you sure, Chris?" Leo asked.

"Yes," she said, smiling, and started to take her hair down.

"What, right now?"

Jim said, "Shouldn't you at least have your hairdresser—"

Christine waved her hand. "François can clean it up tomorrow. I want this hair gone tonight." She stood, her hair swinging loose over her shoulders. The feel of it made her realize, suddenly, that no one had seen her like this since Roger had gone to the sanatorium, and that thought made her want the bob even more. "I have some scissors upstairs. Shall we? After all, you've witnessed everything else that transpired this evening." She turned and led the way upstairs to her bedroom.

There, she handed Janice the scissors from her writing desk and sat down at her dressing table.

Janice stood behind her and folded her long hair at the shoulder. "Like this?"

"Shorter," Christine said firmly. "To my chin."

Janice blinked. "All right," she said.

As Janice used a ribbon to gather her hair into a queue at the nape of her neck, Christine looked up, seeing in the mirror that Jim and Leo were sitting on the settee at the foot of her bed. Her eyes met Leo's, and he smiled at her. So she kept looking to Leo, not to Janice, as Janice snipped her hair away. She wanted it gone, to be sure, but it was still a shock.

Janice set the snipped-off queue aside, made a few snips here and there to even the hair, then set the scissors down. "I'll leave the rest to the expert," she said.

Christine looked at herself squarely. The face was already somewhat unfamiliar, with the smudged kohl and lip rouge, but the shorter hair suited it much better. Though perhaps the events of the past year had changed her more than she'd thought. She turned around.

"What do you think?" she asked.

Jim smiled. "Beautiful, just as you were before," he said.

"It takes years off you, Chris," Leo said. "You look like that young girl who was the best damn nurse I ever had."

"Thank you," she said. Leo had never been much of a fan of Roger, nor yet the New York society life he brought her to, and had only visited her a few times so she wasn't surprised to see him glad she'd got rid of the last vestiges of that life. "Jan?"

"You were a modern woman when I met you," she said, "and now you look like one, too."

Christine felt herself smiling, broadly, and flushing a little. "Thank you," she said, and sat up a bit straighter. "Now I just have to find an activity to go along with the new look."

"What do you mean?" Leo asked.

Christine turned around on the stool to face the others. "Think of how Jim introduced us to Hikaru and Nyota. Painter, writer, doctor, dancer, model … oh, and the kind lady who has me to cocktails. Going back to nursing would be impractical but I'm sure there's some way to apply my talents."

Janice shook her head. "Jim said 'hostess,' and that's what you are. Look at what happened this evening, with Nyota choosing to dine with us instead of with the Divers."

"She said that was because our group was more her sort, not just me," Christine replied.

"But that is because of you, in a sense," Janice said. "You bring people together and talking with all your little dinner parties and cocktails."

"Even at our party, you talked to everyone there," Jim said. "Several people mentioned that to me specifically, later, people we like but who are often shy at parties, that you came over and spoke to them, got them interacting with others."

"You've always been like that," Leo added. "Hell, that's half of what Roger loved about you. He was so anti-social, lived in his head, and you were just the woman to grease the wheels for him."

"After tonight I don't plan on looking for another husband, Leo."

"Then spread your grease around," Jim said. "Um, so to speak. You know what I mean. Have a salon."

Christine cocked her head. "But Miss Barney—"

"Miss Barney is a bad poet," Janice said flatly. "And besides, she's a lecher. She kept trying to touch my hair." She shuddered.

"And she doesn't come out to the cafes or clubs at night as you sometimes do," Jim added. "Miss Stein is all right, but they're so serious over there."

"Anyway you'd have scientists, which neither of them do," said Janice. "Makes everything so much more interesting!"

"Plus you have a really excellent cook," Jim said.

"Jim!" Janice said.

"You can't deny that people go to these things half for the food," Jim said. "Starving artist is a cliche for a reason."

"Well, Leo?" Christine asked.

"You can do whatever damn thing you set your mind to," he replied. "You know that."

"That's not what I'm asking," she said.

"Would you like to host a salon, Chris?" he asked.

Christine looked at them all, and smiled. "You know?" she said. "I think I would."

* * *

Decision made, Christine spent the next weeks cultivating acquaintances. She accepted nearly every invitation proffered by Eve's society friends, often bringing Leo along as her escort. She went to the cafes with Jim, Janice and Gaila to become more familiar with the artists she'd met at their house party and their friends. Through Nyota she met the several American and Canadian Negro expatriates who'd been moving to Paris of late, as well as other musicians and performers. It wasn't unlike when she'd first arrived in New York, having to make her way through society, only the rules were looser, sometimes even nonexistent.

She found herself pulling on all of her skills as a nurse and as a society hostess to make people feel at ease, want to introduce her to others and invite her to their gatherings. And while romance wasn't her aim in starting this social whirl—in fact, she was if anything fleeing romance—plenty of gentlemen made overtures toward Christine. She had forgotten what it was like to be desired, though she wasn't sure if she'd ever really known, before. She didn't need to marry again, didn't want to marry again, enjoyed the flattery but let it go no further. She didn't want to kiss these men, nor certainly anything more than that, but that was managed easily enough, and her reputation for being slightly aloof seemed to just add to her allure.

As a matter of fact, since she was so often in the company of Janice and Gaila, she'd received the attentions of not a few ladies, and found it less distasteful than she might have thought. Of course the female form was beautiful, and at the more decadent parties she found herself fascinated by the girls kissing in corners. But she was sure it was just curiosity. After all, Janice told her that she'd never desired any man, while Gaila was much more open sexually than Christine. Surely her marriage, which had begun quite happily, and her recent interest in Spock meant that these thoughts of sapphic love that came to her in the night sometimes were mere flights of fancy. She respected her new lesbian friends too much to toy with them in such a manner.

With so many good friends, and a project like a salon, a wealthy and respectable divorcee such as herself couldn't be lonely. But she still had a nagging sense as she went to sleep every night that she was missing something.

* * *

__  
****  
five  
  


_July 24, 1920_

"The Divers are going to Cap D'Antibes for August," Nyota said, not looking up from her book. "They've convinced the Hotel du Cap to stay open for them."

"How very queer," Eve said. "No one goes to the Riviera in summer."

"You know how Nicole loves a beach," Gaila said. "She lets herself get so brown."

"I hear they do the same in Hollywood," Janice said. "All that time my mother told me to stay out of the sun and now everyone's sitting in the sun on purpose."

"Well, there's no one in the city anyway," Christine said. "I certainly wasn't thinking of starting the salons until autumn."

The ladies—for that was how Jim referred to them, often in a tone that implied the "L" was capitalized in his mind—were sitting in Christine's garden, on benches in the shade provided by an large tree. Janice had her sketch pad out, as she so often did, and Nyota was reading the new novel from Colette. Gaila sat sorting some photographic prints she'd made with Jan's Brownie, while Eve and Christine worked on their needlepoint. Not a fashionable habit, to be sure, but Christine was finding few linens that had the look she wanted for her home; at present she was adding squares of slate blue and cherokee red to some grey fabric she intended to use as a table runner.

"My run at the theater ends in two days," Nyota said, "and the new engagement doesn't start until late October." What she wasn't saying was that her original run six-week had sold out nearly every night, and Hikaru had been able to book her into a much larger theater for the new show.

Christine was so happy for her friend—and was glad to be able to call her friend. Why these days, seeing Nyota and Spock together produced nothing more than a slight twinge. And yet as the July weather turned hot, she felt restless, and certainly less interested in remaining in Paris if she didn't have the distraction of parties and events.

"Eve," she said, "what would Chris think of a trip to the seaside?"

"I'm sure he'd welcome it," she replied. "Leo has him swimming every day, and his walking has gotten so much better. He's still a Navy man—perks right up when he smells the salt air."

Christine nodded. "Nyota, when would you begin rehearsing for the new show?"

"Hikaru and I are just choosing songs and discussing the idea now," Nyota replied. "Rehearsals would begin in early September."

Janice cocked her head, and Christine knew that Janice had grasped what she was planning, as she so often did. But she said only, "The Ballets Russes is also dark for the month of August."

"Then I'm sure there's no reason not to rent a villa at Cap D'Antibes, is there?" Christine asked.

Gaila grinned and clapped. "Oh I just love a house party!" she said.

* * *

_August 2, 1920_

There was a whole caravan of them making the two-day drive down from Paris, which made Janice feel like they were in a wagon train. The Pikes had a car, of course, as did Christine, and Spock and Hikaru. Jim was driving Leo's car, as he took more pleasure in it and was less nervous behind the wheel than Leo could be. They'd managed to fit Jim's typewriter and the current copy of his novel, plus three canvases, Janice's easel and paintbox, all in the trunk. The suitcases had to go on top and in the back seat, which left just enough room for Janice.

"All set?" Jim asked.

Leo growled. "Why aren't we taking the train like civilized people?" he asked.

"C'mon, Bones, where's your sense of adventure?"

"I forgot to _pack_ it," he replied.

Once they were out on the open road, Jim said, "See? It's nice outside the city."

"In a train I can eat a sandwich and have a cup of coffee!"

"There's a thermos of coffee and some sandwiches in the back with Janice."

"I can walk around and stretch my legs."

"We're going to stop at lunchtime."

"I can read a book or engage in conversation."

"No one's stopping you from reading. And we're having a conversation right now."

Leo grumbled.

"Fine. I'll start a new one. Jan?"

"Yes?" she replied.

"If I ask you a question will you answer it honestly?" Jim asked.

"If I can, of course."

"When are you going to do something about Chris?"

Jan's brows furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"I mean you obviously think she's the cat's pajamas," Jim said, "and I wondered if you were going to, you know, do that thing you do, with girls."

"I do what?" Janice asked, not quite able to catch up.

"I've watched you a few times, with a girl who's caught your eye. Chris caught your eye all the way back in New York and you haven't flirted with her once that I've seen."

"Chris isn't a lesbian."

"Hasn't stopped you before."

"I'm friends with Chris."

"Again, hasn't stopped you before. You're very graceful about that kind of thing, leaving those ladies feeling flattered. Never seen you get slapped. And don't think I haven't noticed that you aren't denying that you care for her."

"Of course I do," Janice said. "She's my friend. My good friend. And she's very beautiful."

"So what was it like, watching her trying to snare Spock?" Jim asked.

Janice sighed. "Dreadful."

"I think that answers your question," Leo said.

Janice was quiet for a bit, watching the countryside go by through the window. "Leo?"

"Yes?"

"Has she ever—I mean, have you ever known Chris to, well—"

"Go for a girl?" he asked.

"Yes."

"It's so hard to tell," Leo said. "You ladies have those schoolgirl 'pashes' that always confuse me."

"Me too," Janice admitted.

"I will say that when she spoke of you and Gaila together, she sounded almost jealous. At the time I thought it was just because Spock hadn't responded much to her, and maybe that is what it was, but I dunno. Maybe it was something more. She does speak of you often."

"This is absurd," Janice said. "We sound like we're in an Austen novel. Like Mrs. Bennett."

"You should secure her as soon as you might, dear," Jim said, grinning.

"Ha ha," Janice replied. "You're just smug because of Leo."

"I am," he said, "but that means I want you to be smug, too. You deserve to be smug."

"Thanks, I think."

"Difficult not to believe in love when you're in it, isn't it?" he asked, smirking

"Quiet, you," Janice replied. "The jury is still _out_!"

"I'll say one thing," Leo replied. "I know what you've said, Jan, about love for our sort and all, and a few years ago I would have agreed with you. Not just because I hadn't met Jim here, but, well, things were pretty rough on me in Atlanta for a while. Lost my job, my wife, created a scandal. Wish I'd hidden a bit better."

"I'm so sorry, Leo," Janice said, reaching one hand to his shoulder, and he patted it, his other hand firmly in Jim's.

Leo cleared his throat, then continued. "But I dunno, I think they call Paris the city of love for a reason. It _isn't_ the same here, among all you artists. And Chris still believes in love."

"I know," Janice said. "She told me. Wanted me to change my mind."

"I'd like to keep it that way, for her," Leo said. "She isn't the sort to be just one of your girls."

"I know," Janice said, quietly.

"And you still want her?" Leo asked.

Janice was quiet for a bit, looking out the window at the French countryside. She thought of how Christine had changed just since she came to Paris, and not just in her appearance, and all the conversations they'd had about art and life. "Yes," she said. "Yes, I do."

Jim nodded. "So now we just have to help you with Chris. Don't we, Bones?"

Leo held up his hands. "Leave me out of this," he said. "I'll put in a good word for you if she asks me, and I'll try to keep Jim from talking you into any foolishness, but that's all.”

"Fair enough," Jim said. "And by the way, I'd never try to talk her into anything that would make her look bad."

Leo raised his eyebrows. "Oh really?" he asked.

"I've never done it to you. You've always looked wonderful."

"Says you."

"Yeah, says me!" Jim said. "I'm enough!"

"Do you have any ideas, Jim?" Janice asked.

"Well, you do have that daring little swim costume," Jim said, "and we're sure to be spending some time on the beach. You'll be a real bathing beauty. No one will be able to take their eyes off you."

"Not even you?" she teased.

"Not even me, except when Bones is around, of course. He's got some _gams_!"

"Oh for the love of Mike!" Leo said.

"When I complement you, you could at least say 'for the love of Jim.'"

Leo rolled his eyes. "Any other bright ideas?"

"The Divers are having a costume party, as is their wont. We need to think of something for Janice that will allow all that pretty blonde hair to be free."

"It's very long, Jim," she said.

"That's the point," Jim said. "I'll tell you when I honestly haven't been able to take my eyes off you: when you've washed your hair and you're sitting on the balcony with it all spread around you, to dry. It's otherworldly. If she doesn't react to that, well, then she's not your girl, and better that you know it."

"So you want me to dress as some kind of faerie?" she asked.

"Why not?" Jim asked. "We're not far off from midsummer. Let's take that as our theme."

"Why do I suspect you're doing this just so you can be Puck?" Leo asked.

* * *

The villa was quite near the hotel where the Murphy's and their friends had taken up residence, and had rooms for all and a private bit of beach directly in front of it. The two days' drive had been great fun, Scotty and Gaila lovely traveling companions, and while Christine hadn't been surprised that Janice shared Jim and Leo's car on the way down she found she was just a little disappointed. Perhaps she could ask Janice to ride in her car back to Paris at the end of the month.

Still, it was nice to be done with travel, and when she woke up that first morning she thought a swim would do her a world of good, stretch out the muscles that had been cramped in the car for two days. She slipped on her bathing costume and cap, thinking she had just about enough time before breakfast would be cleared away. In fact if enough of them enjoyed these early morning swims, perhaps breakfast could be served on the terrace, al fresco, and they could eat in their damp bathing costumes before dressing for the day. No reason to stand on formality.

There was a towel on the beach, and sure enough someone was swimming already. She looked into the water, shielding her eyes from the sun, and saw pale arms and legs cutting through the blue water. Not Nyota, but with the bathing cap difficult to tell if the swimmer was Eve, Gaila, or Janice.

Christine put her towel down next to the other one and stepped into the warm water, moving until it was deep enough to just float. She sighed, feeling all her muscles and bones slowly shift back into their proper places. After a bit she looked up, trying to see the other swimmer, but she had gone in and was now sitting on the beach. She made a pretty picture, this girl, arranging her body just so, and Christine reckoned she must be Gaila, who was used to posing. She tucked her head down under the water to swim back into shore, interested to talk with her fellow early bird.

She was surprised, then, when she walked up onto the sand. "Jan!" she said.

Janice had been reclining back on her elbows, her head tipped back and her eyes closed against the sun, all that blonde hair tucked under a red cap. Her costume was of the new short kind, not even covering her upper thigh, and her legs were stretched out, one knee bent slightly. She smiled, not opening her eyes, and said, "Yes?"

Christine laid out her towel and sat down next to her. "I suppose I didn't recognize you right away, without your hair."

Janice sat up more fully, crossing her legs Indian-style. "It's still here, don't worry," she said, pulling off her cap to reveal two long, thick, golden braids that glistened in the morning sun.

Christine stared, transfixed, at the blonde hair and lightly tanned skin and the bright red of the bathing costume. She hadn't stopped to think, really, of how much skin they'd all be revealing on this holiday, and felt suddenly self-conscious. She pulled her legs underneath her.

But Janice just smiled. "I love your bathing costume," she said. "Blue suits you."

"Thank you," Christine said.

"Shall we get some breakfast?" Janice asked, rising to her feet.

Christine headed up to her room and quickly changed out of her bathing costume. She ran a brush through her hair, still not quite used to how easy it was to keep tidy now that she'd bobbed it. How Janice managed all of her elaborate styles Christine wasn't sure, especially as Janice otherwise wasn't a slave to the new beauty culture; in fact her long hair kept her slightly apart.

When Christine came into the dining room, Jim was talking about Shakespeare. "Oh here you are," he said, smiling. "How do you feel about 'A Midsummer Night's Dream'?"

"I ... enjoyed the play when I saw it."

"Sorry, I meant as a theme for our costumes."

"Has it been established that we must find a theme for our costumes?" Spock asked. "Or indeed that we are required to wear them?"

"Of course we must wear costumes," Eve said. "It is a costume party, specifically."

"I see," Spock said, seeming satisfied if not precisely pleased.

"I think it would be rather lovely if all our costumes were of a theme," Gaila said. "But who would be whom?"

"Well," Jim said, "of course the admiral and Eve would be the Duke of Athens and the Queen of the Amazons."

"I'm actually quite good at archery," Eve said, "but I draw the line at baring a breast."

"I should say so," the admiral said.

"Spock and Nyota and Scotty and Gaila would be our two pairs of mixed-up lovers. Then you'd only have to wear a toga, Spock."

"Very well," he said.

"Leo would be Oberon, the king of the faeries—"

"Is that supposed to be a joke?" Leo asked.

"—Christine, Tatania, his strong-willed queen," Jim continued, ignoring him, "and Hikaru, Pavel, Janice and I can be your loyal subject-faeries."

"So it _is_ a joke," Hikaru said.

"I like your scheme, Jim," Christine said.

"Thanks!"

"But I don't think I should be Titania."

"No?" Jim asked, his eyes darting down the table.

Christine smiled. "I think Jan would make a lovely faerie queen, don't you?"

Jim turned to her. "You'd have to wear your hair down," he said.

"I'm willing to make a sacrifice for the sake of the costume," Janice replied.

"In fact," Christine said, "now that I've cut my hair, I'd quite like to be Puck."

Jim grinned. "That is a lovely idea," he said.

"Good," Leo said. "Then Jim can be Bottom."

"Bones, I have to have a beard to be Bottom, and you hate it when I don't shave."

"Wouldn't it have to be a false beard?" Leo asked. "There are only ten days before the party."

"Oh, Jim can grow a beard before then," Scotty said.

"Really?" Janice asked.

The admiral nodded. "One month, hell of a month, we were in the air so much I stopped getting on the boys to shave. So long as they kept themselves clean, I didn't fuss too much. After two weeks Jim here had to start trimming his beard so his gas mask would still fit."

"I didn't know you had it in you," Janice said.

"I am incredibly virile," Jim said. "Ask Bones."

"I'm sure we'll all take your word for it," the admiral replied.

"Well," Leo said, "I reckon a few days of stubbly mess are worth seeing you in donkey ears."

* * *

There was some sort of small gathering at the Hotel du Cap nearly every night, cards or dancing in the lounge or what have you. The Divers were a bit snobbish but not really bad sorts, though their friends were a very fast and stylish crowd, different from the artists Janice was used to. Her favorite evenings were when they all stayed in the villa and played silly children's games like Blind Man's Buff only with the benefit of a cocktail or two. On those nights it was easier to pay attention to Christine without being obvious.

Janice made a point to join Christine every morning for her swim, no matter what they'd got up to the night before. This made some mornings rather more difficult, but it was worth it to see Christine's reaction to the skimpy little costume that revealed all of her leg. Christine still had the more traditional costume that came to her knees and had a little skirt, and it looked darling on her, the ends of her short hair peeking out from under her bathing cap. Janice relished every time she made Christine stutter and stare.

It might have been a little unfair, unleashing her flirtation in so stealthy and sudden a manner, but she'd been waiting long enough. Christine had no entanglements, didn't think for more than a moment about any of the men who sent her flowers or invited her to dinner. The way was finally clear, and Janice intended to take full advantage of it. Though Jim was wrong; she'd never done this before, never become friends with someone before seducing them. After, yes, but not before. Adding the friendship to the sex she was used to, but adding the sex to the friendship?

This was entirely new.

* * *

On the night of the party, Janice put on her faerie costume, which was no more than a very thin white cotton dress with a blue sash at her waist. She had brushed her hair one hundred strokes every morning and every night to make it shine, and slept with it in braids to keep it from tangling. Now it fell across her shoulders and back, tumbling past her waist.

She was sitting in front of the vanity applying some kohl and mascara when there was a knock on her door. "Come in."

"Hope you don't mind," Nyota said. Her short hair was dampened and slicked back, her Grecian costume suiting her long slim figure. Jim was right, as usual.

"Of course not," Janice said, and Nyota sat down on the bed behind her.

"Gaila told me what you and Jim are up to," Nyota said. "With Christine, I mean."

Janice looked up at her in the mirror. "I see," she said.

"Christine is a lovely woman."

"Yes, she is," Janice said, and couldn't help but smile.

"She went out of her way to make me feel welcomed, when she had every reason to resent me."

Janice turned around. "Why would she—"

Nyota held up her hand. "I worked it out, from some things Spock mentioned. She must have been disappointed, yet she never let me see that."

"No," Janice said. "She wouldn't."

"So since she's been so lovely to me, and she was so recently disappointed to some extent because of me, I thought I should tell you that I'm so glad that you care for her, Janice. No matter what happens."

Janice reached out and took Nyota's hand in hers. "Thank you," she said. "That means so much." She squeezed their hands together, then let go and stood. "Help me with my crown?" she asked.

"Of course," Nyota said. "I'm an old hand at this sort of thing, being in the theater." And indeed it took her no time at all to pin the crown of flowers to Jan's hair.

"How do I look?" Janice asked.

Nyota took a turn around her, fluffing out her hair until it was just so. "Perfect," she said. "Otherworldly."

"Do you think she'll like it?"

"How could she not?" Nyota said, smiling.

Downstairs, Janice saw Christine first. She was in a brown leather vest and shorts, a little cap on her head, with sandals. The short pants showed a good deal of leg—more than her bathing costume or any of her dresses. And she just seemed merry, standing there talking to Leo. Behind Janice, Nyota cleared her throat.

Christine turned around, and the expression on her face when she saw Janice in her costume, Janice remembered for the rest of her life. Christine's eyes widened, and her cheeks flushed, her lips caught between a gasp of surprise and a smile. Even after all the flirting and posing on the beach, for the first time Janice felt as though Christine really saw her, saw what she wanted with Christine, what they could be together.

"Hello, Puck," Janice said.

Christine walked toward her, slowly. "Greetings, my queen," she said, and kissed Janice's hand. Her eyes looked up at Janice, and there it was, what Janice had only just been able to keep out of her own gaze, the desire that she knew could flow between them if Christine would let it.

"I propose a switch, in our little interpretation of this play," Leo said.

"What's that, Bones?" Jim asked. His beard had come in full and light brown, and served to make his eyes even bluer. He was wearing simple, rough clothes, his hair twisted into tufts, and his ears were extended into furry points.

Leo's costume consisted of a cloak and trousers, but no shirt. "I say we have Puck be Titania's servant, rather than Oberon's, and make Oberon the one who falls for Bottom. That way, I don't have to let you out of my sight."

Jim turned to Christine. "Do you think you can take care of our queen, Puck?" he asked.

Janice realized that Christine's eyes had not left her own, and she blushed, for the first time in a very long while.

"I will do my best," Christine replied.

* * *

Like any young girl, Christine had read her share of faerie tales, so she recognized that moment when the peasant girl appeared before the prince in an elegant gown and won his heart instantly with her beauty. She'd always seen herself as the peasant girl, of course, and in a way she had been when she married Roger. But now she was definitely the prince.

Standing on the stairs, her hair loose and flowing down her back, Janice was more beautiful than anyone Christine had ever seen. Even if Leo hadn't changed the casting around, and made Christine Janice's servant rather than his own, she wouldn't have wanted to leave her side for more than a moment, particularly with that fast crowd the Divers ran with.

Her memories of that night were always slightly blurred, like those Victorian photographs of faeries. She fetched drinks for Janice, lit her cigarettes, made sure that her lady wanted for nothing. She even fended off the more insistent male suitors, even though she knew that Janice didn't need her help.

Janice smiled at her, nodding like a true royal, and that was enough thanks.

Christine curled up on couches next to Janice and listened as she talked about art with some of the other guests at the party. At least that was consistent; she adored listening to people talk about things they knew a great deal about, be it science or art. She did have a thought for her own project, the salon, meeting a few more people who she might invite, once they were back in Paris at the summer's end. And Janice, she knew, took her dreams of a salon very seriously, and was all encouragement. She wasn't sure a man would have felt the same.

Perhaps that was the reason they were often run by lesbians.

Jim drove them back to the villa quite late. Eve and her admiral had long since left, as had Nyota and Spock, while the others were sure to stay at the party until dawn. Leo was in the front seat of the car with Jim, while Christine shared the back with Janice, who was nestled into her arms and dozing. When they got home Jim got out of the car, quietly, and smiled at Christine before going inside with Leo.

Apparently, he approved. Or even more likely he was behind it somehow. Leo would know, but the morning was for that—for thanking Jim for bringing them Janice.

Janice stirred. "Where are we?"

"Home," Christine said. "Come on."

They made their way up the stairs, and Christine hesitated at Janice's door. But Janice didn't need to say anything; she just opened her door and pulled Christine inside.

* * *

There were little balconies outside of all of the bedrooms, and Janice's faced the sea. She walked over to it, threw the doors open and stepped outside, thinking that Christine might need the breathing room. For all her attentiveness today, all the staring and the blushes over the past two weeks, she still hadn't done this before, and it seemed a little unfair to expect her to go from nothing to everything without some time to think.

Heck, they hadn't even kissed yet.

The breeze from the ocean stirred her hair and it was nice, having it all down and flowing, though she knew tomorrow it would be a tangled mess. She could hear Christine walking around in the room, then footsteps coming closer, until the other woman was embracing her from behind.

Janice tipped her head forward and placed her hands over Christine's, around her waist. "This is what you want?" Janice asked.

"For so long," Christine said. "I just didn't understand."

Janice turned around in Christine's arms and cupped her face with her hands. Her eyes were sad.

"I'm sorry," Christine said.

"Don't be," Janice replied. "I didn't understand, either."

She leaned in to kiss her, just softly, not wanting to scare her. But Christine was having none of that—she dove right in, all demanding passion, and while Janice was more than equal to it, she was a bit surprised. For all her blushing, Christine was not the usual first-time-girl.

"What do you know?" Janice asked. "What do you want?"

"I want it all," Christine said.

Janice pulled back and looked at her, blinking in surprise, but she was solid, determined, not putting it on for Janice's sake. "Bed," she said.

They walked back into the room and Christine's behind looked so perfect and luscious in the leather short pants—they'd been driving Janice crazy all night long.

"But what do you know?" she asked.

Christine sat on the bed and took off her sandals. "Roger had books," she said. "Erotic books, with photographic plates."

"I see," Janice said.

"He would ask me to read through them and tell him what I was willing to try."

"And what was that?"

"Anything that didn't hurt," she said. "He made it fun. He talked to me and made me feel beautiful."

"You are beautiful," Janice said.

"Some of the plates showed women together," she said. "But that would have meant another woman in the room with Roger, and I'm too jealous for that." She looked at Janice.

"Duly noted," Janice replied. "What were the women doing?"

"Putting their fingers in each other's quims," she replied. "Kissing each other's quims. Sometimes they had leather phalluses they used to fuck each other."

Janice felt a rush go through her, hearing Christine say "fuck" so casually. "Anything else?" she asked.

"Kissing each other's behinds." She paused, then said: "Roger kissed my behind. He buggered me."

"Did you like that?"

"Yes," she said, without a trace of shame. "He had me bugger him, too, with a leather phallus. Some of the plates showed men together, too. I think that's something they do."

"I have a leather phallus," Janice said. "Not here. In Paris."

"But we're here now," Christine said.

Janice nodded. "Take off that vest," she said.

Janice had suspected that Christine wore nothing under the vest and she was right; the tightness of the leather had kept her breasts from escaping. Janice kicked off her own sandals, then stepped out of the diaphanous white dress and the slip she wore beneath it. Christine leaned back on the bed, eyes on Janice all the while, and slipped out of those tight little leather shorts.

"I think we should pace ourselves," Janice said as she sat down next to Christine on the bed. "We have a long time to do everything."

Christine's eyes lit up at that. "All right," she said.

"So what do you want to do?"

"I want to kiss you, and touch you," Christine said. "That's enough."

"It is," Janice said, smiling, and kissed Christine again, pushing her down onto the bed. She lay next to her, idly stroking one breast with her fingertips.

Christine's hands were everywhere, first on Janice's shoulders, then her back, then grasping her behind firmly, and her kisses were so sweet, so wet and soft and lovely that Janice didn't want to stop.

"Here," she said, "I'll show you something that you didn't see, because it doesn't make a pretty picture. But it feels good."

"Lovely," Christine said.

Janice slid her thigh between Christine's legs and pressed firmly. "Squeeze," she said, and Christine obeyed.

"Oh," she said.

"Yes," Janice said, smiling a little, and squeezed her other thigh around Christine's.

She could feel Christine wet against her skin, and her muscles firm and straining against her. They started moving slowly, but it quickly became more urgent, and Janice was pleased to see how eager Christine was, how pliant she was in Janice's arms. She made little noises of surprise and pleasure, which turned Janice on even more, and they drove each other forward, Christine lifting off the bed enough that Janice could get her hands on that ample behind and squeeze, pushing them closer together. The sweet kisses became dirtier, sucking on tongues and lips, little nips on cheeks and ears and chins. Janice held back, wanting Christine to get there first, but she didn't have to wait long before Christine's muscles tensed, her breath caught in her throat, and her eyes opened wide.

"Gorgeous," Janice said, speeding up her own movements against Christine's now-lax body. "Next time I'll make you shout my name."

"Yes," Christine said, watching as Janice came and then collapsed against her.

They kissed again, then settled themselves more comfortably for sleeping, under the coverlet and against the pillows, arms loosely around each other. The moonlight and sea breeze coming through the balcony doors made it feel like a midsummer dream, like magic, that Christine was finally in her bed.

* * *

Christine woke a few hours later. The sun was streaming in through the window and Janice was sleeping so peacefully—and so beautiful, surrounded by all that golden hair—that she did her best not to disturb her as she got up. She closed the balcony door and the curtains, so Janice might sleep later, then quickly put her costume back on and slipped back to her own room.

She felt anxious, as if she couldn't sit still a moment longer. She put her costume over a chair and sat at her vanity, wiping off the makeup from the night before with some cold cream as Nyota had shown her. Then she stared at this shameless naked woman in the mirror, not sure if she even recognized her anymore.

She got up and put on her most casual day dress and walked downstairs and out onto the beach. The sand was warm and rough against her bare feet. She wasn't sure why she thought the ocean would have any answers; she wasn't even sure what question she was asking.

"The mornings here are beautiful, aren't they?" said a deep voice behind her.

She turned as the man walked up next to her. "Hello, Jim."

"So," he said. "Jan."

"Yes," she replied.

"Ah, you're smiling," he said, teasing her a little. "That's a good sign."

"I hope so," she said. She dragged one big toe through the sand. "Jim?"

"Yes?"

"Do you really think—do you really think we can do this?" she asked.

He turned to her, smiling. "I think that you're an intelligent, determined, capable American woman of independent means living in Paris, and you can do any goddamned thing you want to."

"You sound like Leo," she said, chuckling.

"It's rubbing off," he replied. "And anyway I've found he's usually right, when he's not grumbling, and sometimes even then. But I'm sure you already knew that."

"Yes," she said. "So, is there some secret signal I'm to learn?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you knew about Janice."

He grinned. "Because she was so chummy with the other girls on the train. Then, to be honest, the way she stared at you, that day on the pier." He leaned in closer. "And you returned that stare, by the way."

She blushed. "I did."

"So there you go. You were inevitable from the day you saw each other, just like Bones and me."

Someone called out behind them, and Christine and Jim turned to see Janice looking down on them from her balcony in a red day dress, her hair still free and flowing in the breeze. They waved.

"What are you two plotting?" Janice asked.

"Your future," Jim replied.

"Not without me you're not," Janice said, her hands on her hips.

"Then get your lazy behind down here so we can have breakfast," he said.

"And bring Leo," Christine added.

The cook was awake, and happy to provide the four early birds (well, three and a grumbling Leo) with omelets and coffee, and they sat out on the terrace table, relaxed and holding hands.

"When are you going to make Jim shave, Leo?" Janice asked.

"He likes it," Jim said, grinning.

"Provided you keep it trimmed, yes," Leo said. "And no handlebar mustache."

"It's not 1890, Bones," Jim replied. "But I'll go to the shop today and get some scissors."

"Good," Leo said, and gave him a little kiss as a reward.

Christine turned to Janice, who was smiling at her fondly. "I suspect," Christine said, "that the four of you aren't going to be renewing the lease on that house of yours."

"Perhaps not," Janice said, and kissed the back of Christine's hand.

* * *

__  
****  
six  
  


_September 6, 1921_

Janice Rand was not a morning person, and they’d had rather a late night between the cafés and a party and their own activities when they returned home. Christine Chapel was; no matter how late she went to bed, she still tended to wake with the sun and make up the difference in naps later.

But she never liked to leave the bedroom before Janice was awake, so not long after Janice moved in, Christine settled into the routine of doing her correspondence in the bedroom, sitting at the little table where she could look out the window at the garden, curtain half open to let in a bit of sun. The breakfast tray was brought in silently, all to let her sleeping beauty sleep for as long as possible.

Christine had finished with her letters when Janice stirred, blonde head turning to face her. “How long have you been up?” she asked.

“A couple of hours,” Christine replied. “There’s coffee and croissant if you want,” she added, nodding her head at the tray.

“What I want,” Janice said, “is for you to come back to bed.”

“I need to review the menu for this afternoon,” she said.

Janice reached for the bell pull at the side of the bed, the sheet slipping from her shoulders as she moved, and Christine couldn’t help but bite her lip at the exposed skin, the flash of a rosy nipple. Seeing Janice’s skin just _did things_ to her, things that made her want to rub her legs together.

“Do it,” Janice said, and it took a moment for Christine to realize she meant the menu.

“All right,” Christine said, bending her head to her task and away from Janice’s distraction, and indeed she’d written up all her notes for the cook by the time the maid came upstairs in answer to the bell. Christine gave her the outgoing letters and the menu, then dismissed her.

Janice opened the bedside table and took out one of their phalluses, still attached to its little harness. “Now come back to bed.”

Christine would have to be a stronger woman—or perhaps one less in love—to refuse that request. She walked to the bed, letting her robe slip off her shoulders and onto the floor,

* * *

After their morning activities Christine took a bit of a nap while Janice worked in her studio. It was a nice sunny room on the ground floor, and Christine had made good on her promise never to enter unless invited, though she frequently was. Janice was working on a little portrait of Leo, a present from both of them to Jim, when there was a soft tap at the door.

“Yes?”

A maid entered, her eyes lowered, and curtseyed. They all seemed to be a bit afraid of Janice, though she couldn’t think why. “You wanted us to remind you when it was three o’clock, madame,” she said.

“Oh, yes, thank you,” Janice said, and took care of her materials before removing her smock. Heading up the staircase she caught a glimpse of Christine in the front room, engrossed in preparations for the salon. She did love seeing Christine in her element, but there was plenty of time for that later, and Janice needed to be ready before any guests arrived or there would be trouble.

She was just putting the last pin in her hair when Jim came bounding into her dressing room. He’d got used to not knocking when they’d lived together, and apparently saw no reason to stand on ceremony now.

Janice looked up at him in her mirror. “Please tell me you’re early?”

“Don’t worry,” he said, reclining on the settee behind her. “It’s just me and Bones. Had to bring over a few copies of the book.” He held one in his hand.

“Why did you bring that up here?” she asked. “I’ve seen it. I’ve read it. And I look forward to buying a copy, properly, in the bookshop.”

In a sense, she’d even lived it. Jim’s novel was about a doctor, a nurse, an ambulance driver and a pilot, drawn together shortly after the Great War. It was remarkably spare, given how sentimental Jim could be. “I could write a melancholy book,” Jim had said once, “because I got the happy ending I wanted.” Of course the romances were of the usual sort, but anyone who knew them could see Leo, Jim, Christine and Janice in the characters.

“Not like this you haven’t,” Jim said. “With the book jacket and all.”

Janice took the book from his hands, turning it over so she could see the cover, and gasped.

Jim grinned at her reaction. “I didn’t want to say anything until I knew for sure,” he said, “but we’d shown it to my editor when he was here in Paris, and they agreed, and here we are.”

Across the top of the book was the title, _Return to Tomorrow_ , and at the bottom, “by James T. Kirk.” But between, the cover illustration, was a painting of four figures sitting on the beach in Cap D’Antibes—Janice’s painting, done from sketches she’d made during their beach holiday the previous August. Her very own painting, on the cover of Jim’s book.

“So if it doesn’t sell,” he said, “I reckon I’ll have you to blame.” He grinned.

“Jim, this—I don’t know what to say.”

“We’ll be together forever, now,” he said, taking her hand. “No matter what happens.”

Janice smiled back—there was _her_ sentimental friend—and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”

“Come,” he said, rising. “Let’s go down before Christine wonders what we’re up to.”

In the sitting room, Janice looked at the painting, which had hung above the mantle for some months now, with new eyes. “Did you know?” she asked Christine.

“I knew that Jim had made the suggestion,” she said, “but I didn’t know it had been accepted until they arrived. So now we can have the salon for you both!”

“Oh, no,” Janice said. “I don’t want to take away from Jim’s day.”

“You won’t be,” Jim said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “You’ll be adding to it.”

“And don’t worry,” Leo said. “I’m sure he’ll be getting plenty of attention.”

“Don’t be jealous, Bones,” Jim said. “You got your research published and that funding from the University. I wouldn’t be surprised if you end up on their faculty in not too long.”

“Perhaps,” Leo replied, “but what I _meant_ was, don’t forget who you belong to.”

“Oh, _that_ kind of jealous,” Jim said. “Don’t worry, Bones. I’ll never find anyone who scowls as prettily as you do.”

Janice turned to Leo and he winked at her; in their portrait-present for Jim he was scowling mightily, per his own suggestion.

“All right,” Christine said. “Guests will be arriving shortly. And Leo, don’t let me catch you making drinks. I’ve hired someone for that.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Leo replied. “I’ll just hang back with my fellow scientists, shall I?”

The rest of the afternoon was a blur of congratulations. When the room was full of friends and regular salon-goers, Jim stood and thanked them all, then read a short passage from his novel, and Janice’s heart ached with pride. He’d worked so hard—they all had, really, and it was paying off great dividends now. The Pikes were there, the admiral standing with the cane which he didn’t really need but liked to have when he was in a crowd and might be jostled. Spock and Nyota had just returned from their honeymoon, and she had some offers from the Pathé Frères to do some short dance films. Hikaru, flush from his success with Nyota, was busy with a new secret project: turning Pavel into a music hall leading man. And Gaila and Scotty were still, well, Gaila and Scotty.

After the initial wave of greetings, Janice was happy to settle into a quiet corner and observe Christine and Jim, so much in their element.

“May I join you?” said a voice above her.

“Oh, Leo, of course,” Janice said, and slid over on the window seat to make room. “Abandoned the scientists, have you?”

“The admiral is talking war again,” Leo said. “Trying to recruit Scotty to engineer, as he puts it, ‘a reliable damn aircraft carrier’ as part of that campaign of his to convince the US Navy that the future of war at sea is in airpower.”

“You know Gaila has been helping him,” Janice said. “Scotty says she shows a real aptitude for engineering, and she’s thinking of taking some classes at the University this fall.”

“She’s got quite a brain in that body of hers,” Leo replied. “Good to see she’s using it. She might be a Navy bride before too long.”

“Imagine, carefree Gaila, settled down.”

“Yes, but with _Scotty_ ,” Leo said. “No danger of a conventional marriage with him.”

“Oh, and there’s Christine, breaking up that war talk,” Janice said.

“As we knew she would. She’s so good at this, just look at her.”

“And Jim, too.”

“We sure can pick ‘em, can’t we?” Leo asked. “Lovers, and friends, too.” He took one of her hands in his, and kissed her on the temple.

Janice leaned her head on Leo’s broad shoulder. “There are all kinds of love in the world,” she said.

* * *


End file.
